Wiles
by Mortissues
Summary: The supernatural world runs on plot and intrigue. I should know, I shaped most of it. The vampire understands how to survive in my world, he sees the potential threat in every word and action. But my poor Great Granddaughter has only just found out this world even exists. Elderly relatives should not interfere, but perhaps, for once, finally, the two of them? Ah, who knows . .
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 1 The Fairy**

**NPOV**

I watch the flat waters of the bowl with barely concealed disinterest. So much to attend to, so little to actually care about.

From time to time I am forced to act, not that anyone would know. Stars! By now even I barely notice when it happens.

With great power comes great responsibility. And trust me, eventually the weight of making the correct choices cripples you into inertia. Unless you are predisposed to rule the worlds and be wicked, then I should imagine you would have a lot more fun.

No one is looking so I ferret a little personal secretion out of my nose and flick it accurately into the bowl.

He shoots! He scores! Soccer. My fourth daughter introduced me to it a few decades ago, shortly before her death.

A petulant sigh escapes me and I wipe the offending finger on my robes.

According to one of my daughters I am exhibiting all the signs of entering my second childhood. Good. I am hoping it will stir up the atmosphere around here somewhat. There is only so much forced peace and harmony an old warrior can take before he goes completely off his mental trolley.

"Majesty." My Advisor Ortel's voice interrupts my thoughts. "It is almost time for the evening meal."

Fabulous. Stew again I imagine. The second daughter is regrettably fond of stew. If I wanted my meat swimming in liquids I would scarf up fish from the ocean like a whale. Is there a problem with a simple roast that I am not aware of? Apparently so.

"Very well." I respond with a negligent wave of my hand. "I am almost done here."

I always save the best until last. With another wave of my hand I change the focus of the flat water.

The water in the bowl used to ripple. It did nothing to hamper my ability to perceive the detail of the images but it was, frankly, annoying. Fortunately one of the court scientists found a way to enhance the capabilities of the bowl so the water is flat and still.

Unless I flick something into it of course.

I will not snicker. That would be most unbecoming. And only my wife would have appreciated the humour. Stars rest her naughty soul.

I have not learnt much from my contemplation of the bowl today. There is some plotting underway. Not that I am disappointed. A diversion will be most welcome. They plot, my people, from time to time. Chaffing at some of the restrictions I have placed on them for their own protection. They have so little else to worry about it is hardly surprising. Although I am always vaguely shocked that none of them learn the lessons of history, no matter how recent that is. They just do not seem to appreciate how futile it is to go against me. In their defence however that is possibly because every once in a while I get so cataclysmically bored that I have to let them try something in order to relieve the monotony.

This makes me a bad ruler I am sure.

Really. I do not think I would wish this role, or the stews, on my worst enemy. And I still have several.

The bowl captures my attention.

Ah, there she is. The little ray of sunshine I only recently found existed. My very own reality show. I do not watch her every moment, time moves differently here and often huge amounts will have passed for her before I am allowed the space to tune in again.

I have done nothing to intercede in her life in the short time I have known of her. Though her reality pains me there has been no pressing need, we all have to learn to live our lives the way they are given to us and she is no exception.

She is ready for a night out, my little ray of sunshine. And how beautiful she looks in her pretty flowered sundress.

The images move faster as if driven by her own determination. A ray on a mission. The details flood into me like a static charge, the pictures speeding up as I scroll through them to capture everything.

Ortel creeps up beside me. Nosey individual.

Her beau is a vampire? When did this happen? _How_ did this happen? I flick backward and forward through the images in the pool, garnering all the information I need.

I dislike his intentions toward my ray of sunshine. I dislike them _intensely_.

Annoyed I refocus the water on the present.

The dark haired vampire declares my ray of sunshine his. I find that extremely unlikely, but it is her choice, always.

And there _he_ isagain. Her soul's stalker.

Right. That is it. A man can only stand for so much. Especially when he has been waiting for an excuse to flex his muscles.

"Ortel, summon the Keepers and pack me an overnight bag, we are taking a trip."

"Majesty." He intones with a slight incline of his head.

I loathe it when he _intones_, it always feels like I am doing something he approves of. Stupid fairy.

Still. No stew.

I time our arrival at the pivotal moment. Literally. Timing is everything. In everything.

He is about to take her maidenhood. Now even I know this is no concern of a Great Grandfather in the modern world but this is also the supernatural world and I believe, based on past and painful experience, I am entitled to at least put a small spoke in the wheel and await developments.

"Unhand my Great Granddaughter you oily little specimen."

His fangs descend into place with a click and he crouches in front of her naked body, clearly intending to defend her from attack with his own. How tiresome. I simply cannot understand how proud they can be of their fangs, something over which they obviously have so little control. Overgrown supernatural toddlers.

"Please." I amend politely. Mindful of my wife's teachings.

"Who are you?" The oily little specimen demands.

My Great Granddaughter nods, seconding the question. Perfectly reasonable I suppose.

Ortel steps forward, puffing out his chest and preparing to launch into the whole wretched explanation.

I do not have the patience. I _know_ who I am. And how I acquired every single title he is about to trot out.

"His Ma . . . . Oomph!" My elbow in his solar plexus shuts him up before he can get started.

"My name is Niall."

Eyebrows are raised.

Altogether a much milder reaction than I am used to.

**A/N So, this isn't my first fanfic but it is my first Sookie and Eric. For those of you not familiar with my modus operandi (and I hope there are a few of you who've made it this far) it's simple, I take a great idea a proper author has had and subject it to my random imagination. So it's going to be AU. With Niall, I'm looking forward to Niall . . .**

**And because it feels like my first time again I'd really appreciate some feedback, it's awfully scary doing this . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 2 The Vampire**

**EPOV**

They see my bored and dissatisfied expression as further demonstration of my superiority. And so it is to a degree. But tonight it is also because I am trying to calculate my tax return in my head while I enthral the vermin. I am annoyed. Pam has lied to me. Her wardrobe for Fangtasia is not tax deductible, at least not by me.

I am attached to this bar. The first business I have legitimately been allowed to own as vampire. So much so that I am prepared to sit here most nights on my faux throne so the customers can either gaze at me in awe or grovel for my attention.

"It is time for your refreshment break Master." My child murmurs, arriving just behind the throne to relieve me.

"What have you chosen Pam?"

"Something new I think you will like."

Reaching back I pet her hair briefly as she takes my place on the throne. She knows me so well there is very little chance I will be disappointed.

I can smell the human from the end of the hallway leading to my office, she is light and sweet, and nervous, her heart pounding in her chest. I can feel myself stirring into life, there is nothing like a little fear to inflame _all_ my desires.

I sweep open the door to find a petite and fresh looking brunette fidgeting nervously on one of the hard chairs before my desk.

Mm. She does smell good.

Folding myself into my own chair I stare at her in silence. She is pretty and does not seem anything like the usual women who offer themselves willingly to us as food and recreation, although she has made an attempt to dress like one.

Her fear is increasing as she shifts in her seat, unable to maintain eye contact with me.

And now I _know_ I am going to enjoy myself, Pam has made an excellent choice.

"Come here." I order, letting my fangs run out as she moves hesitantly to comply. "Look at me."

Her liquid brown eyes rise to mine and a bit of resolve stiffens her spine, pushing her breasts out nicely.

"Do you know why you are here?"

"The Mistress said you needed to feed." Her voice is soft.

"Did she tell you what else I needed?" I enquire, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes dart down to my erection which throbs in anticipation, her voice dropping to a tentative whisper as she confirms her understanding.

Excellent. If she tastes and feels as good as she looks I may even consider extending my break for an hour or two . . . .

…..

"Satisfied?" Pam questions, relinquishing my throne.

"Very enjoyable." I confirm, wiping the smirk off my face and allowing bored disdain to take over again.

"I am glad she pleased you." She chuckles moving away.

"Pamela." I call her back.

"Master?" She enquires.

"This does not get you out of our conversion regarding your wardrobe allowance."

"Of course not Master, I did not for one moment imagine it would."

The corners of my lips twitch slightly as I fight back my smile and wave her away. I made an exceptionally good choice in making her my child.

Our clientele changes over the course of the night. When we first open they tend to be mainly tourists, curious and filled with trepidation and awe. As the night wears on they make their way back outside in search of less risqué pleasures and the ones we call the Fangbangers, the true vermin, occupy the vacated space. These are the ones desperate to be with our kind, who will give anything and not just their blood to earn favour from us. They come seeking sex, danger and in some cases, immortality. In the meantime they drink and dance, my business partners and I reaping the profits.

Though I respect their money I have very little respect for these customers, even for humans they seem especially unworthy . . . .

The bar is filling up nicely when Pam catches my eye and directs my attention toward the door.

Bill Compton, a recent arrival in my area. Not a vampire of any particular note, other than formerly having been part of my Queen's court, avid mainstreamer according to the gossip. My fealty to my Queen is freely given but that does not mean I trust her and while I have no reason to suspect her of any nefarious deeds in my area, that does not mean I am not paying attention.

However his presence in the bar is hardly a surprise or cause for concern and my attention is about to slide away again when I realise he has brought a human with him. And what a human. A little bit of fang slips out as I drink her in from the painted nails of her toes to the golden crown of hair atop her head. Her curvaceous body is all woman. Her demure dress and countenance all innocence. Her flawless, tanned, golden skin is glowing with vitality. She belongs here about as much as I belong in the pulpit of the local Christian church.

Noting my interest Compton steers her abruptly away toward the bar. My nostrils flare and I inhale her, the clean fresh scent of her blood, the warm rich aroma of her body and the lotion she has used to moisturise her skin. Lust rips through my startled body like electricity.

Vampire Bait.

After a few minutes Pam appears at my side.

"She is asking questions about dead fangbangers Master." She whispers. "Apparently her brother is suspected of murder. She seems extremely naïve about our ways and customs. She tried to shake hands with Long Shadow."

As if drawn by the power of my will she flicks her eyes to mine and immediately I use my glamour to persuade her she is better off asking her questions of me. To my surprise she merely blinks a few times and looks away.

Interesting.

I transfer my attention to Compton and after a few moments he caves into temptation and turns to glance at me, showing his inexperience, an older vampire would have ignored me until I was forced to approach him directly.

I beckon with my finger and favour him with one of my more predatory smiles. His poker face is admirable but the eyes betray his concern.

"_Is she his_?" I ask in my native tongue as they approach.

"_No Master. There is but a faint trace of him in her blood_ _and nothing between her thighs_." My child responds in kind.

…..

Done with my chores for the night I flip my booted feet up onto the desk and tilt back the chair, lacing my hands together on my stomach.

What an _interesting_ evening.

A telepath. Limited to humans by her own admission, I detected no evasion there, but still, incredibly _useful_. How much time and money has she already saved me simply by sensing the undercover cop in the bar?

Why? That is what I cannot understand.

Why would he bring her here? By no account is he a complete fool, despite his youth and inexperience.

She _is_ vampire bait. No doubt about it, but with her gift too? Many of our kind, no matter their age, would behave foolishly in order to possess her.

He named her as his but has clearly not yet made her so according to our conventions. As his superior in every way I could quite easily usurp such a weak claim. Is that what someone is expecting me to do, and I if I did what would they gain from it? More importantly, what would I _lose_? I do not find it credible that such a tempting little morsel will have crossed my path by accident.

No, while I would not object to fucking her, feeding from her and utilising her gift I have no intention of owning her. Such a possession would be in constant need of protection from those who would seek to take it from me and I cannot be bothered with the drama. I am sure some monarch who already has such possessions to accommodate will come along and pluck her out of Compton's grasp soon enough.

In the meantime if I have need of a telepath I know where to find one and I am more than happy to compensate her financially for her time, unless of course there is something else she would like to be compensated with.

"Pam!" I call.

"Yes Eric." She responds, blurring into my office.

We are much less formal when we are alone. I have no use for the more archaic vampire practises when there is no one to judge us for them.

"Commission a full report on Compton's human, I would like it by the end of the week."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I have been over the books twice and someone is definitely stealing from us."

"What do you want me to do?" She purrs, dropping a little fang at the idea of catching and punishing the miscreants.

"Glamour the usual suspects and report back tomorrow evening."

"Just glamour?" She pouts.

"We are out of the coffin now." I remind her. "We actually have to _find_ the guilty party before any punishing can be done."

"Fine." She huffs. "If we're done here I have dinner and some shopping to get on with."

I am happy to dismiss her, I have plans of my own before dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 3 The Waitress**

**SPOV**

I made it this far, up to and through today, on sheer will power alone. And now it's over I'm a clock work toy that's wound down, there's nothing left. Not even Bill's silent presence beside me, nor his cool hand resting over mine on the swing seat between us, is doing anything to help.

Though I long for my bed and a deep dreamless sleep I can't tear my eyes away from the trees at the edge of the yard. Not that I'm seeing anything in the darkness, they're just there.

So much has happened.

I'm not human. Somehow that isn't as much of a shock as I wish it could have been. I have never fitted in, been 'normal'. The explanation for why can hardly be that surprising. After all if vampires are real why not fairies, werewolves, witches and trolls? I can't pretend I understand the specifics of it all, as unnaturally comfortable as I felt with Niall, my Great Grandfather, he didn't seem like the sort of person who had much patience for questions. But as I understand it being fairy, or fae as he called it, is not just a question of your lineage and genetic makeup, just a little bit of fae is all it takes to make a fairy if you have something called the essential spark. I do it seems, but my brother Jason and cousin Hadley do not.

I am apparently a bona fide member of a wider supernatural community I didn't even know existed.

He was honest, he said, about the things he wasn't telling me and his reasons why. And I tried to take it all on board I really did, but while my eyes watched his lips moving my mind kept dragging me back to the reason I'm not human.

His youngest son, Fintan Brigant. And Gran. _My_ Gran.

Since Niall's revelation things between Gran and I have been strained. I know we'd have righted ourselves eventually, we're a family and that's what families do, but now we can't. She'll never get the chance to help me understand why she did it, at least twice, I had a father and and an aunt, and I'm afraid I'll never reach that point on my own. I can't help feeling that all the values she taught me were based on a lie and that it somehow makes a mockery of my whole life. Of me.

I know that's harsh and untrue but I've been robbed of the opportunity to work that through with her.

But far worse is that she died, because of me, knowing I was mad at her. And I'll never get the chance to apologise or make it right.

I knew Jason hadn't murdered those girls. He's a selfish idiot, not a monster, and besides I'd have seen it in his mind with my little disability. Or as I now know, inherited trait. But by the time I'd worked it out it was too late, the real monster that was punishing women for their relationships with vampires had targeted me. Because of Bill. But he didn't get me on his first attempt, he got Gran. He didn't get me on his second attempt either. And I killed him. With a shovel no less. I still haven't entirely come to terms with that and in a way I hope I never will. Always better him than me, I'm not a fool, but nevertheless I took a life. Something I would never in my wildest dreams have imagined doing.

Huh. Turns out my wildest dreams were pretty tame and way wide of the mark.

I've lived and struggled all my life with my disability. Reading minds. My wildest dreams all revolved around not being able to do it and being accepted as normal. It's got better as I've gotten older and learnt to block out people's thoughts, but here in Bon Temps I'm still Crazy Sookie Stackhouse, the freak who occasionally answers the question no one's asked out loud. It's caused a lot of pain over the years, not just for me but for people I care about too but with Gran's help, especially after my parents died, I've learnt to live with it. And the consequences.

I was as curious as the next person when vampires came out of the coffin, never thought I'd meet one here in my little corner of Louisiana though. So I was as curious as all get out when Bill walked into the bar where I work. It wasn't surprising that curiosity morphed into something else when I realised I couldn't hear him. His mind was a blank space, a void, an oasis of tranquillity in the chaos I'd become accustomed to.

That wasn't the reason I saved him from the drainers. He's a person, no one deserves to die that way, though there's an irony there a less charitable person would see.

I can see how I fell for him. The silence was soothing. It also meant when he was nice to me there were no stray thoughts to break the spell. He was tall dark and handsome. He saved my life, albeit from the drainers I thwarted. For a twenty something virgin with only a few sporadic dates under her belt that was quite a heady mix. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him and I was perfectly relaxed about it.

I'm not sure what stopped it dead in its tracks.

His former nestmates? Their visit was _unpleasant_. The Fangtasia vampires? All of them so much less human than him, so much less apologetic for what they are.

Niall? He certainly made quite the entrance, which is more than Bill got to do, he doesn't even remember what happened though the memory of it still makes _me_ cringe.

There was something portentous about it, the timing of his appearance, and I can't shake off the idea that there was a reason we were stopped at that very moment. Leastwise a reason better than simply mortifying me half to death. Only I could meet family I didn't know I had at the very moment I was about to have sex for the first time. Which is probably another reason why I've been reluctant to give it another go, though to be honest, with everything else that's been going on in my life, I can hardly be faulted for feeling less than 'frisky' as Arlene always puts it.

Bill is trying to be understanding but I know his patience is wearing thin. He says he loves me and he longs to love me physically, that's sweet I guess but the longer it goes on the less likely it seems that it will actually happen. I like Bill, I care about him and I consider him a friend, but I don't love him. I was raised by a good Christian woman . . . .

_Oh Gran._

. . . . but though I'm also a modern woman I'm just not _comfortable_ with losing my virginity to someone I _know_ I'm already _not_ planning to stay with. I'm a late starter with extremely limited options but I'm not desperate.

Poor Bill, he tries so hard to fit into the role of human boyfriend, but it's doomed to failure.

I feel bad. Bill's saved my life once and nearly met his true death trying a second time, none of this is his fault.

A tear rolls silently down my cheek and instinctively Bill leans over to capture it with his finger, touching it to his lips and savouring the taste.

I'd forgotten he was still here.

"Bill, you should go now. I'm ready for bed."

"Are you sure Sookie? We've been able to spend so little time together lately . . . ."

Oh please, Bill, not the puppy dog eyes.

"I only want to take care of you." He murmurs, gathering me to his side and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just need to sleep."

He rises and I look up at him.

"I will see you at first dark tomorrow."

I nod and he blurs away.

Wearily I drag myself inside and head for the shower, trying to wash everything away.

It doesn't work and once I'm dressed in my comfiest PJs I wander back out to the swing to watch the trees again, the seat not even moving as Niall appears beside me. My Great Grandfather looks like a Calvin Klein underwear model, talks like Methuselah and exudes power like a President.

"I am sorry." He says softly after a few minutes of oddly companionable silence.

"She was one of the few things I could rely on in my life." I whisper as another tear starts down my cheek.

"There will be others."

"Will there?" I sound like a small, scared, child. Which is, of course, exactly what I am.

"I could take you away from all this, to a place of peace and harmony, somewhere you will always be loved."

He's told me much about Faery.

"That sounds a lot like running away." I snort.

"It is." He responds calmly.

I wonder if visiting for a while is an option?

"I'm not a quitter." I huff.

"No. You are not."

The minutes tick by, there's a definite chill in the air and I shiver.

"You have dispensed with the oily little specimen." He observes finally.

Dispensed? What kind of word is that? And can he not just call him Bill?

"Not yet. I've never broken up with anybody before." I hesitate, and then plough on. "I'm not really sure what to say to him. He saved my life . . . ."

"Technically your life has been saved by every passing motorist who has ever failed to run you over. Would you wish to tie yourself to them?"

"That's . . . . silly." I can't help but smile.

"It is still true."

A bit more companionable silence.

"He will not give up so easily."

"Bill? What do you mean?" The cold has me shivering again.

"Vampires are possessive by nature and he has other motivations."

Another shiver.

"He won't hurt me will he?" I find that difficult to imagine but still, I know a lot more about vampires now than I did when I met my first.

"Probably."

I gasp, turning toward him for the first time. His handsome face is focussed on the trees.

"Not physically, at least not of his own volition. He genuinely does love you. But he will hurt you."

"Can I do anything to stop it?"

"You could stay with him. Give yourself to him in the way he wants."

"No."

Niall smiles and turns to face me, his large hand gently cupping my face.

"You are strong Sookie Stackhouse Brigant. A born survivor."

"I don't feel very strong at the moment." I mutter, dropping my eyes to the hands still twisting obsessively in my lap.

"Well buck up then Great Granddaughter. Your stalker is coming."

_And_ he's gone.

And I really can't face Bill again right now. I want to pull a Scarlett and worry about him 'tomorrow'.

I close my eyes praying for strength and when I open them Eric, Vampire Sheriff of Area 5, is towering over me.

"Damn it Eric!" I shriek. "Do you _have_ to creep up on a body like that?"

"No."

Always the apparently straight answer.

"Can I help you?"

I wince, poor choice of words where Eric is concerned, but it turns out he's not in the mood to taunt me with his _desire_ for my body.

"I require your gift. You will be compensated."

"Eric, I'm kind of busy right now . . . ."

He looks around, raising an eyebrow at the obvious lack of anything for me to be busy with around here at this time of night.

I like Eric, grudgingly, though he brings out complex and often conflicting emotions in me. The first thing I always feel when I see him is breathless, he's a vision of blonde male perfection and it would be stupid not to give yourself a moment to appreciate it. He is also selfish, rude, offensively superior, egotistical, high handed, occasionally funny, sometimes terrifying, often lewd and right now, unwelcome.

"Eric, I buried my Gran today . . . ."

"Will she be rising vampire?" He interrupts.

"No."

"Then she has no further need of you. I, on the other hand, have great need of you. Are you going to help me or not?"

I should spit in his face but there are a couple of things that stop me, other than simple good manners. This is the first time he's approached me directly instead of going through Bill, I've never heard him use the words need and help to a mere _human_ before and I could _really_ do with a distraction at this point . . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 4 Travel Broadens the Mind**

**SPOV**

Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap!

I knew this was a bad idea for any number of reasons but right now this is the only one I can focus on.

Is it supposed to bounce like this? Is this what happens just before we crash in a fiery ball?

"You are afraid to fly?" Eric enquires.

"I don't know." I whimper. "This is the first time I've done it."

For the first time since he turned up at my house last night he cracks a smile, just barely, and then returns his attention to his laptop, politely leaving me to my irrational terror.

We've been off the ground for several minutes before I start to relax and can actually pick up the large gin and tonic the flight attendant poured at Eric's direction. The ice chinks as my hands shake. Still, it's a first, even if we crash on landing at least I can say I've been on an airplane. No, nothing about that statement makes sense.

Wow, I'm full of cheer tonight.

My boss, Sam Merlotte was tight lipped with disapproval when he discovered I was using some of my time off to help vampires, I probably shouldn't have told him anything but Eric wouldn't say how long we'd be in Dallas so I'd wanted to warn Sam in case I didn't get back in time for my next shift. My best friend Tara's disapproval was considerably more vocal and though I left a message, Jason will probably only know I'm gone if he pops round to the house in search of a home cooked meal.

There was nobody else to tell except Bill. I miss Gran so much.

Anyway. I bottled telling Bill and left him a note for when he got up tonight. I guess that makes me a coward and a bad person but he'd have insisted on coming and I was hoping to use the time away from him to think. I guess that also makes me a bad girlfriend because he only wants to protect me and he's constantly warning me to be cautious around other vampires and the first chance I get I run off on an errand with the one he considers to be most dangerous.

Oh well. Too late now. Eric said he would protect me and I trust him to do that, I think. He also told me to dress like a businesswoman and retain a calm detached persona so as not to draw too much attention to myself. Beyond that he just snorted when, thinking of Bill's warnings, I asked him if I would be in any danger from the Dallas vampires.

Eric has been on the phone pretty much constantly since I met him at the airport and now he's talking rapidly in a language I don't understand. I'm not really sure what an Area Sheriff does but I suppose it keeps him pretty busy what with his business interests and all.

The call ends with a stream of barked orders and he turns his attention to me.

"Compton is at Fangtasia, demanding to know what I have done with his human."

"I am not _his_ human." I sigh. I'm not sure I'm his _anything_ anymore.

"Belonging to a vampire protects humans from the interest of others of our kind." Eric says quietly, watching my face. "There are rules about that sort of thing. I know Compton has explained at least some of this to you."

"He said if I was perceived as _his_ other vampires wouldn't touch me."

"The devil is in the detail." Eric observes blandly. "If you are asked in Dallas I recommend you say you _are_ his."

"Okay." I might not like it but I'm nothing if not practical.

"And if I may offer an opinion?"

"Um, sure?" He's asking, that's new.

"Associating with vampires could be very dangerous for you. You might want to consider asking _yours_ more about how you can be better protected."

"Danger from what, apart from the obvious?" I ask, keeping my tone even.

"You will be perfectly safe with _me_ in Dallas." Eric says with assurance, exuding arrogance like cologne. "But I suggest you talk to Compton as soon as we return."

_And_ he goes back to his laptop, conversation over.

Great. What now? On the few occasions I've spoken to Niall I've been so wrapped up in the bombshell of my heritage it's never occurred to me to ask him about vampires. His disdain for them is fairly obvious and his only comment, which I have heeded, was never to reveal my ancestry to them. Maybe, under the circumstances, I'd be better off asking him what I should be wary of, rather than Bill . . . .

…..

The vampires who meet us in Dallas are cool and distant, barely paying the lowly human any attention at all as they converse quietly with Eric on the drive to the hotel. I don't catch everything they say but clearly to have 'lost' a Sheriff is a serious business.

The brown haired vampire, Isabel, assists us through check in at the hotel and informs us she will be waiting in one hour to take us to the King.

"One room?" I growl at Eric as the elevator doors close on us.

"Isobel is assuming that I will want to have my 'travel rations' and 'entertainment' close at hand." Eric remarks with a smirk.

"Ew! No way!"

"Sookie, many women would be thrilled to be sharing my bed for a few days."

If they can get near it with your giant ego already in there . . . .

"I am not many women and I am _not_ sharing your bed, Eric."

"That is your loss." He says with a light shrug.

"Eric . . . ." I warn, I'm not sharing a room with him.

"Perhaps you are frigid?" He observes. "Compton does not appear to be enjoying the pleasure of your body with you either."

My mouth opens and closes with a snap, color leaping up neck and staining my cheeks deep red.

"It is a suite Sookie." He informs me with a slight smile. "There will be more than one bedroom and as tempting as you are I have no intention of being anywhere near you when I go to my daytime rest. I do not trust you."

"Oh."

_Oh_.

The doors slide open and I follow him to our _suite_ reminding myself that though I am a small town hick there is no need for me to behave like one. I've seen places like this on the TV but I've never been in one . . . .

No hiding it from Eric though.

Shaking his head at the expression on my face he deposits my bags in the palatial master bedroom and withdraws to his own room with instructions to look around for an hour before meeting he and Isobel in the foyer.

As soon as his door closes I bounce test the bed and undertake a thorough investigation of the rest of the suite, the hotel itself can wait till I get up in the morning, there's more than enough to keep me occupied here for an hour and I am _so_ going in that enormous tub when we get back later . . . .

…..

Locking the door to my room and wedging a chair under the handle for good measure I sink into the luxurious tub and think back on the night's events.

Isabel drove us out to a well-heeled suburb of Dallas, pulling into the driveway of what I can only describe as a mansion, set back from the road in its own stand of carefully tended trees. Security was tight and I could only count two human minds present among the large number of voids. Not even Eric's bar, Fangtasia, has prepared me for sensing so many vampires in one place and I was grateful for the forbidding, six foot four, presence of Eric beside me.

We were shown into a conference room with a long table and told to wait. Obviously I'd never met a monarch before, let alone a vampire one, and whatever I was expecting Stan, the King of Texas wasn't exactly it. About my height he was lean with short dark hair and wore a pair of completely unnecessary glasses. His clothes and demeanour fairly screamed 'nerd, underestimate me' but his pale alert eyes were warning enough for me to be cautious never mind Eric's show of respect.

Once Stan had examined me minutely from the top of my severe hairstyle to the tips of my pointy 'professional' heels I was ignored, much to my relief, so I listened and learned.

The missing Sheriff, Godric, was not considered an easy target for whoever had taken him, due to his age, the older the vampire the greater their strength apparently. He was last seen at a bar Stan owned called The Bat's Wing, he left alone and has not been seen or heard from since. Betrayal was suspected.

There was an underlying tension between Eric and Stan which I didn't understand, almost as if Stan felt obliged to answer the questions Eric was throwing at him whether he thought they were insulting or not.

Yes, he and his officers have questioned every new vampire registered to hunt in their territory. I didn't know they had to do that, like ex-cons or something. Yes, they have questioned, _extensively_, the vampires who were with Godric when he disappeared. Eric clearly wanted more detail on that but both their eyes slid to me and then away again. And I was quite happy for them to discuss that in private, having a strong feeling I didn't want to know their definition of extensively. Yes, any and all humans who might know anything have been glamoured and interrogated. Absolutely no one knows anything about Godric's whereabouts.

None of which seemed to please Eric.

The idea that I, a mere human, could do anything to improve the situation did not seem to please Stan, but I got the impression that he and Eric had already had that argument.

As the night was already progressing the meeting was mercifully short, and once it was agreed that I would return in the morning to read all the humans associated with Stan and his Sheriff, Isabel returned us to the hotel. Eric escorted me back to the suite telling me he had business to attend to and that he would meet me at Stan's at first dark tomorrow. Isabel's human, Hugo, will be collecting me from the hotel at ten in the morning, way too early in my opinion, to take me back to the mansion where all the humans will have been gathered.

Too tired to soak any longer I towel off and crawl into the bed. Of all the things I should be thinking about now I keep coming back to Eric's accusation that I'm frigid. Bill's pretty much accused me of the same thing but in much nicer words. Am I?

I certainly didn't feel it that night at Bill's when we returned from Fangtasia the first time. I felt alive, tingling from head to toe with warmth and desire for him. I wanted him, I was ready to give myself to him. I was, to be frank, incredibly frustrated when two fairies appeared out of nowhere and ruined everything.

And now just thinking about it I can feel an echo of that tingly warmth. Feeling sinful I move my hands over my naked body touching and then kneading my breasts which have started to ache, no, I'm definitely not frigid.

**EPOV**

Of course Stan has asked me about Sookie, complimenting me on such a delectable human. Vampire Bait. I have reminded him that she 'belongs', he sneered and well he might, to one of my underlings and is an asset of both mine and the state of Louisiana. Stan is a sensible monarch and I expect that to be the end of his interest for the time being.

Though I have far more pressing things to worry about at this point my thoughts are consumed with the telepath in question as I make my way back to the hotel from a short and fruitless search for Godric.

The report on Sookie Stackhouse was uninformative in the extreme. Living with her Grandmother since her parents died in an accident. One brother, more typically human than his sister. Did poorly at school, curious since she is clearly an intelligent woman, has worked for years as a waitress in the Shifter Merlotte's bar. Locals all think she is crazy. No known history of association with vampires or anything else that goes bump in the night. One cousin, missing and assumed to be addicted to drugs somewhere. Fiercely loyal, hardworking, questionable taste in reading material, loves to sunbathe.

Almost completely normal and nothing to raise suspicions. Which is of course, to me, suspicious in itself.

Saved Compton from a pair of drainers. Also suspicious. I do not rate him particularly highly but to be caught by two amateur drainers on practically his first night in my area and then be rescued by a telepathic human? No sorry, I am not buying it. He should have reported them to me immediately yet he did nothing until the drainers had almost beaten Sookie to death. The report, in fact, is still outstanding.

In short, I do not trust either of them to be who they seem to be and I am hoping that her asking him why he is not protecting and claiming her properly will shake something loose. Unless of course she already knows the answers to those questions.

At some point I may tire of this game and simply torture the truth out of the pair of them.

Reaching my suite I am unsurprised to find her door closed and locked. But I am surprised when the heady aroma of her arousal fills my nostrils and my fangs slam down, throbbing with need. Her soft breathy moans. The sound of her skin writhing against the crisp cotton sheets. Her soft wet flesh sucking at her fingers. The fast beat of her heart and the hum of the blood in her veins. I can feel the heat wafting off her from out here. And the scent. It is indescribable.

With no one to witness it I permit myself a fangy smile as I slump back against the wall, rubbing my painful erection in time with her pants. I never for one moment thought she was frigid but this is entirely unexpected . . . .

With one word moaned from her luscious lips we are both undone.

"_Eric_."

Chuckling I head to my room for a shower. It is a very long time since I have cum in my pants and _no_ way has this woman come into my life either innocently or by accident. For the time being I shall enjoy this game very much . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 5 Professional Services**

**SPOV**

Washed and dressed in a dark grey skirt and dove grey silk wrap around blouse I remove the chair from the door and let myself out into the suite. Unsurprisingly since its 9am there is no sign of Eric.

Despite being away from home and immersed in something new and probably dangerous I'm actually quite excited about using my disability for the first time in a professional capacity. It's been the bane of my existence for my entire life, what if I can find a way to make it pay for me and help people? That's how I'm looking at this, as an opportunity for me, and if I can help find this Godric safe and sound then so much the better.

After some embarrassment on both sides over the question of how to pay for my breakfast, turns out the room key's the key so to speak, the waiter led me over to a table by the huge windows and crossed my table with a mouth-watering assortment of food.

I'm not exactly a super model size woman, not that it bothers me, at least I am woman shaped, and I have a healthy appetite. Even so I left quite a bit of the banquet for one laid before me. Nervous I suppose, I don't want to let anybody down, least of all me.

Finished I wander out to wait in the lobby, recognising Hugo when he enters from Isabel's exacting description. He seems to know me too because he hurries straight over.

"Sookie?" He asks in pleasant voice.

"Hugo?"

I get to my feet and after a couple of false starts we manage to shake hands, clearly we've both been hanging out with vampires too long.

He's a talker. By the time we turn into the driveway of Stan's mansion I feel like I know everything about him. His ex-wife, his job as a lawyer, his kids, his relationship with Isabel.

As per Eric's instructions the night before, the conference room has been allocated for my use, with a brief synopsis of every human printed out for me to read before I meet them. Hugo and I quickly settle into a workman like pattern. I read the synopsis, he brought the subject into the room, and then I read them. No one seemed to object, they all sat happily in the chair next to mine while I held their hand and asked them questions.

It was an interesting experience and I took the opportunity to experiment as much as I could. Some of them were the type of loud broadcasters I'd encountered before, ask a question and they were off. Others were more nervous in their thoughts and I found that with those, looking for something they felt comfortable with and helping them imagine it until they relaxed was more productive when I got to the questioning part. I also discovered that some people were just more observant than others and no matter how hard I probed they simply just didn't have the answers I was looking for. To my surprise I found one who felt like she had shields in her head, a sort of natural defence to my disability, but though it took a while I was able to get round them.

Throughout Hugo tapped away on his laptop, fetched and removed the humans and solicitously plied me with refreshments.

But it did no good, though I made copious notes there was nothing to be found in any of them to throw light on Godric's disappearance, and I wasn't sure how the vampires were going to take that.

In the end the only human I hadn't read was Hugo.

Perhaps the Texas vampires consider him above reproach but it presents me with a problem. If I don't read him I won't have done my job properly, it's not that I suspect him of anything, it's just being thorough.

I don't normally like to poke around in someone's head without explanation or permission, it's rude, but on this occasion I feel like I should. I can hardly ask him to sit down and relax while I hold his hand but maybe with all the practise I've had with my disability today I won't need to . . . .

Pretending to focus on my notes I sink into his mind. His surface thoughts are straightforward enough. Today has bored him rigid, playing nursemaid to a blonde bimbo barmaid from Louisiana. I'm not offended, I'm used to it, but I make a mental note to brush up my professional persona. Like many people he's highly sceptical that I can actually read his mind but wary enough to be careful about what he's thinking. Trouble is, as I've learnt over the years, the more people try not to think about something the more it features prominently in their minds.

"Did you think the waitress, Bethany, from The Bat's Wing was hiding anything?" I ask him suddenly.

"Couldn't you tell?" He counters, his own mind immediately going on the alert.

"Hmm." I ponder, not looking up. "I suppose it isn't unusual for someone who works for vampires to have been glamoured. But it's suspicious that most of Godric's last night at the bar is missing from her memories, don't you think?"

"Is it, missing I mean?" He asks, thoughts whirling.

"What does Godric look like?" I already know, I've seen him in enough minds today.

Hugo almost sighs in relief.

"He's quite young looking, maybe fifteen, sixteen. He has tattoos, ancient blue runes on the skin around his neck, down his arms, other places too I would imagine. He's slim build, athletic and muscular, short dark hair, brown eyes."

And then he remembers the last time he saw him. Gottcha.

I nod thoughtfully. Better not overplay my hand.

"Would you mind getting me a drink Hugo, I know they don't feel things like we do but I can't believe vampires living in Dallas don't have air conditioning. I'm fairly roasting." And I bat my eyes at him for good measure.

Feeling very superior he leaves the room in search of more iced tea for the bimbo and I slip gratefully out of his mind.

While he's gone I call up the internet on the laptop he's left behind and look up The Fellowship of the Sun, Dallas chapter. Hugo last saw Godric from the aisle of a church, talking to a tall dark haired man I immediately recognised from TV as the Reverend Steve Newlin, leader of said fellowship.

Now I like to think of myself as a church going woman, well, I go, sometimes. But the reverend and his followers turn my stomach with their unholy lack of tolerance for anyone different, or in this case legally dead, and their apparent desire to inflict pain and suffering on anyone they feel qualifies. Hugo might think I'm a bimbo but at least I have more sense than to hate for the sake of hating or because some great orator says I should.

I hear Hugo returning and close the browser, quickly sinking back into my seat and bending over my notes again.

"Thank you." I murmur as he places the glass down beside me.

I need to think. This isn't really something I can tell Eric when there are others around, he should probably broach the subject with Stan in private. I'm not sure Hugo's got anything to do with Godric's disappearance but he definitely knows where he is and isn't saying. I can guess what Stan's reaction will be and if Hugo's done nothing wrong except withhold information it seems a little harsh to me. I need to persuade Hugo to take me back to the hotel somehow so I can tell Eric when he rises and let him work out what to do with the information. He and I have an agreement that no human will be harmed as a result of what I uncover for him.

Time to act.

Despite not being thirsty I quaff the iced tea as if I've never needed a drink more.

"Hugo, I sure am hot, would you mind taking me back to the hotel so I can get a shower?"

"I'm not supposed to. Orders were to wait here for your vampire and Stan so we can report on what we've found."

"I know. But I need a shower and a change of clothes, I'm not used to this kind of heat. Besides I'll be there when Eric rises so I don't see it causing a problem." And, flutter the eyelashes.

"I suppose it's alright." He decides finally.

Phew. Unfortunately the tea has gone straight through me.

"Thank you Hugo. Just one moment while I pop to the restroom and we're good to go."

He actually rolled his eyes. Rude.

When I'm done I find him waiting by the front door, looking impatient.

Forcing a smile onto my face I follow him out to the car.

The blast of the air conditioning is bliss, it really is hot here, and I close my eyes in relief.

Eventually they open slowly, closing again several times before I manage to impose my will on them. I am staring up at a strip light on a concrete ceiling, it hurts my eyes. I let my head roll sideways. I'm lying on a concrete floor in what appears to be a basement, crammed with cleaning supplies. My eyes aren't the only things that hurt. My arms are underneath me and when I try to move them to a more comfortable position I realise my wrists are tied tightly together with scratchy rope. My legs won't move either, same problem.

Well shit.

I turn my head the other way.

Hugo is sitting in a chair by the door, watching me with a frown on his face.

"What the fuck?" I gasp. Very eloquent.

"I checked my laptop while you were in the toilet." He says by way of explanation. "I couldn't let you warn the vamps and ruin everything."

"Ruin what?" Might as well see if he'll fess up like a Bond villain.

"Godric will meet the sun in the morning. He wants to atone for his evil existence, it will be broadcast live bringing more followers for Steve and his mission."

"He wants to die?"

Hugo nods.

Well that explains his unexplained disappearance I guess. I've never met him and as a vampire I don't suppose he cares, but surely there are better ways to apologise for your sins than giving more publicity to Newlin and his?

"You were part of all this?"

"No. I spy on the Dallas vampires for Steve. I had no idea about Godric until I saw him here in the church."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"You will meet the sun with Godric."

"I'm not a vampire, how is that supposed to work?"

"You will be chained to him."

Oh. Yes, I can see how that might work.

"I'm no expert in all this but I can't see how the sight of a burning, innocent woman, who _will_ be screaming in terror, is going to woo the American public to your cause."

"You are not innocent. You are a whore for vampires."

"I'm a virgin buddy." I mutter, turning my head away.

_Jesus_. And this man, this _lawyer_, thinks _I'm_ stupid?

There are about twenty minds I can sense around me and one void. The wretched Godric I assume. Manners be damned, I peek into every one of them. Most are filled with happy anticipation for the morning although few seem aware of exactly what's going to happen. Besides Hugo there are only three who actually know what's planned, a woman and two men. One of whom I assume is Steve Newlin and the other I have a strong desire not to meet, which is unfortunate, because he is heading toward us right now.

The door opens and a handsome man with a black crew cut sweeps in, surveying me happily.

"Steve wants ya." He growls at Hugo without taking his eyes off me.

The thoughts in the new man's head and the fears in Hugo's do nothing to comfort me whatsoever.

"I'm supposed to be guarding Sookie, Gabe." Hugo objects.

"Nah. I got her, you go see the boss."

Reluctantly Hugo rises from the chair and casts a last look at me before exiting stage right.

Oh shit. And Eric said vampires could be dangerous to me, Gabe's gleeful intentions are far more frightening than the idea of being tied to the mysterious Godric for his dawn pyrotechnic display.

I fight to remain calm. He's going to have to untie my legs and then, maybe, somehow . . . . I have one advantage after all . . . .

Gabe closes the door with an emphatic click and stalks toward me, pulling a knife out his pocket and flicking it open.

I scream and writhe, the ropes keeping him from his goal aren't the only thing he's planning to slice through, but he throws himself on top of me in a heartbeat. Laughing, immensely pleased with my terror. The knife cuts through the flesh of my upper arm and I scream again which allows him to plunge his disgusting tongue down my throat, without considering the consequences I bite down on it like a woman possessed.

He howls and drags his face away from mine, my sharp little teeth doing even more damage. My flare of triumph is short lived as the fist not holding the knife smashes into my cheek and as my muscles go slack and stars bloom behind my eyes he reaches back to cut the rope binding my legs. As much as I'd like to keep them firmly together instinct takes over and I start thrashing and rolling, screaming again, praying there's at least one decent human in this place who will look for the source of the noise.

As he struggles to hold me still the knife slices me again, searing through my side and bringing a burning pain that redoubles my screams.

I manage to get my knee up, seeking out a sensitive part and to my astonishment he flies into the air like I've fired him from a canon, stopping magically a foot or so from the ceiling.

A vampire, Godric I assume, has him by the throat, suspended easily at the end of his heavily tattooed arm.

"Are you alright?" He asks in a heavily accented but unexpectedly soft voice.

"No thanks to you!" Oops, brain to mouth filter is out of action.

Godric raises his eyebrow at me in a curiously familiar fashion.

"Um. Sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you. I'm here to look for you, Stan hired me."

The eyebrow stays up, waiting for more information.

"I'm a telepath, I can read human minds, I saw you in Hugo's mind, with Newlin."

"You know my child." He breathes, ignoring the fact that Gabe has stopped struggling and started to turn blue.

It's a statement, not a question and so I keep my ignorance quiet.

"You are not safe here." He continues after a moment, master of the understatement.

"Neither are you." I mutter and to my surprise he chuckles.

Then he lowers Gabe abruptly and _literally_ snaps him in half over his knee.

Blood flies in all directions.

Faint, a little voice inside me suggests. Don't you dare, another demands.

Anyway the choice is taken out of my hands as Godric steps over the Gabe parts and leans down, jerking me to my feet by my lovely new blouse.

"We are leaving." He states.

"Is that a good thing?" I ask, realising that my poor abused face is swelling and it's getting difficult to speak.

"It is for you." He chuckles again, throwing me unceremoniously over his shoulder and darting out the door.

I can't seem to lift my head so instead I watch the floor. Concrete. Concrete steps. Linoleum. Polished wooden blocks. Stone flags. Asphalt. Its blurring by so fast I can barely register the changes. And I'm so tired and weak all of a sudden, it's all I can do to keep my eyes open, maybe just a little sleep, not much I can do about my situation right now anyway . . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 6 Family**

**SPOV**

I can hear voices. A low rumble of them.

I'm weak, tired and in pain, all I want to do is sleep.

But I'm nothing if not stubborn and for the second time recently I peel my reluctant eyes open.

I'm in a strange room, stretched out on a comfortable bed with, of all people, Eric sat beside me bathing my knife wounds gently with a damp cloth. I will worry about what he's done with my shirt later, damn him.

"Ouch." I rasp.

"You have lost a lot of blood." He observes.

No shit Sherlock, shouldn't I be in a hospital or something. I don't know this room but the décor screams Stan's mansion.

And I'm betting it's a good guess as my vision clears and I spot Stan and Godric over Eric's shoulder.

"She has returned Godric to us." Stan says formally. "I offer her blood to aid the healing."

"I am sure my underling will be most grateful your Majesty, but I owe her the healing myself." Eric responds firmly.

No, no healing. I try to sit up. An exercise in pain and futility and I immediately flop back down. Also painful.

"Hospital." I croak.

Nobody pays me any mind.

"Then we will leave you to it." Stan murmurs. "Godric and I have matters to attend to. We will see you downstairs shortly."

Eric nods and in no time we're alone.

"Hospital." I try again.

"Is very much overrated. You will take my blood. You will be fine."

I shake my head.

"Vampires are very jealous of their blood, especially older ones such as I, you would refuse?"

"What happens if I take your blood?" My voice is getting weaker, along with the rest of me.

"You will heal. You will feel better. I will be able to track you and I will be able to feel some of your stronger emotions. It will wear off eventually."

"Don't want to be an addict or a vampire."

"There is no danger of either although you will be plagued by erotic dreams of me for a while."

"Hospital." I wheeze out, making another doomed attempt to sit up.

He laughs. I don't think I've ever heard him properly laugh before. It's a deep warm sound that soothes away my fears.

Leaning down he tears open his wrist with his fangs, supporting my head as he brings the bleeding wound to my lips.

"Drink." He orders, his voice becoming husky.

I latch on, instantly amazed by the rich sweet taste of his blood, nothing like how I remember Bill's tasting. Must be an age thing, or an Eric thing. His body shudders and the bed and I shudder with him.

I swallow, painfully, until the wound closes and he removes his wrist, lowering my head gently back to the pillow.

Watching me intently he pierces the end of his finger on a fang and, once his blood has pooled, draws it carefully across the cut on my arm. Repeating the process several times on the gash in my side. The pain lessens quickly and I can feel myself relaxing.

"I didn't exactly save Godric." I mutter as sleep pulls me under.

"That is what I am afraid of." Eric responds quietly, getting up and walking away.

…..

I wake some time later to find myself stretched out in the back of a huge car. My head on Eric's thigh, feet on Godric's. The two of them are staring at each other in tense and unhappy silence.

No, too much, I let myself drift away again.

My next awakening is somewhat ruder. There is shouting and cool hands tugging at me urgently.

"Off." I groan unhappily, trying to snuggle back down into sleep.

"Let her go!" A voice shouts angrily.

Bill.

Eric is carrying me bridal style and Bill is trying to snatch me away. We're in the corridor outside our suite.

"Bill." Eric growls in warning. "If you touch me again the pain of silver will be the least of your problems."

Eyes flashing Bill backs down and Eric sweeps past him, carrying me into my bedroom and laying me carefully down on the bed.

Burden relinquished he squares off with a furious looking Bill.

"My human . . . ." He starts.

"Is healing and just needs to sleep." Eric interrupts. "I am extremely busy at the moment and I do not have time to discuss the semantics of ownership with you. I assume you have not come all this way without making arrangements for your daytime rest?"

Bill shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again.

Eric throws his palm up at Bill's face, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Do not push me Compton, not today. It is almost dawn, go to your rest."

Bill hesitates, glancing at me.

"GO!" Eric roars, Bill and I both jump.

And with a last look at me Bill blurs away.

"Eric . . . ."

"Sleep Sookie, we will leave for home at first dark. It would be advisable for you to stay in the suite until I rise."

And he turns and strides away.

Gathering my wits about me I climb cautiously to my feet, surprised by just how well I feel despite my weariness. Then I throw caution to the winds and hurry out of the door after Eric, I have a horrible suspicion I know where he's going.

Sure enough I find him on the roof, kneeling before a sorrowful looking Godric.

Godric smiles briefly at me as I emerge from the stairwell and then returns his attention to Eric, speaking urgently to him in a language I don't understand. There are bloody tears streaming down Eric's face as he argues with Godric and they wrench at my heart, I would have pleaded with Gran not to leave me too, if I'd been able.

Finally Godric says something in a deep and sonorous voice and Eric jerks to his feet like a puppet, eyes wide and pleading as Godric sighs and reaches up to cup his cheek.

The sky is getting lighter and both Godric and I watch with relief as Eric disappears down the stairwell.

"You're his Maker." I observe as he returns his gaze to me.

"He does not understand." He whispers. "I am tired, I do not wish for this existence any longer, but that does not mean I love him any less."

"Why did you go to The Fellowship?" I have to know, it just seems such a _stupid_ thing to do and I seriously doubt he's that.

"They are a threat to our kind, I thought I could kill two birds with one stone."

"You knew they were going to sacrifice a human with you." I gasp.

"I would not have allowed it." He smiles wryly. "The broadcast was going to be live, remember?"

"You were going to expose them, before you died." I shake my head, it would have worked too. "Why didn't you just go ahead with your plan?"

"I recognised your connection to Eric, I would not risk him coming for you and falling prey to my fate. Eric is not meant for death."

The sky is getting much lighter now and I can feel a sense of urgency tugging at me.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Will he forgive me, do you think?" He asks by way of an answer.

"Eric?"

"God. Both." He expands, turning to face the rising sun.

"Yes Godric. They will."

He spreads his arms wide as the sun peeks over the horizon.

"Thank you Sookie, for staying with me."

…..

Sobbing I make my way down the stairs and back to our rooms. It didn't take very long and he didn't seem to be in pain or have any regrets. But there's something undeniably sad about watching someone who has been alive for so long, seen and done so much, blow away on the wind a mere handful of dust. It almost feels wasteful and I regret not having the chance to get to know him. And I offer up a prayer that I wasn't lying when I said God and Eric would forgive him.

The suite is sealed into darkness when I get back but Eric is still up, sitting on the end of his bed, staring at his hands, cheeks stained with bloody tears.

I stop dead in my tracks, torn between the desire to comfort him and the knowledge that my human emotional efforts probably won't be welcome.

In the end my soft heart wins out and I pad over to him and rest my hand on the top of his head. He leans forward, resting his forehead on my stomach and instinctively I comb my fingers through his hair. Just for a moment or two. Then I pull away, flipping the big red security switch by his door as I pull it closed behind me.

The sound of the locks clanging into place follows me across the room as I stagger to my own bed and fall on it, suddenly too tired to do anything except sleep.

…..

I wake up full of foreboding.

Bill is here and won't be avoided at nightfall.

I've had Eric's blood.

Godric is dead.

And I'm still wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday. They're scratchy with dried blood, I can feel it.

Groaning I roll over to look at the clock. I've slept the day away and I've got about two hours before I have to face the vampires and the long journey home.

Might as well spend them in the tub.

While it fills I inspect myself in the full length mirror. My face is its normal shape, I'd been expecting a few giant lumps and bumps, there's just a faint yellow hue to my cheek, an almost faded bruise. The cut on my arm is a very thin pink line. The gash in my side only a little thicker. But still, not as bad as it could have been, Eric's blood is clearly strong stuff. In fact I feel as fit as fiddle, like I could run home to Bon Temps, which maybe wouldn't be a bad idea . . . .

I'm curled up one of the sofa's flicking idly through a magazine when Eric's door opens.

Ignoring me he stomps out, flinging his bag down next to mine and continuing over to the fridge where he pulls out a bottle of synthetic blood, shoving it in the microwave with practised ease.

I concentrate on my magazine.

The microwave dings and after a few seconds I hear the bottle land in the waste basket.

Then the fridge opens again. Microwave. Waste basket.

Fridge. Microwave. Waste basket.

Fridge. Microwave. Waste basket.

Silence.

Eventually I cave and look over at him.

Oh baby. If looks could kill I'd be dead already.

Hastily I go back to my magazine, it's not a look I want to see on the face of someone who could end me without breaking a sweat.

The knock at the door is a welcome relief and I hop off the couch to open it because Eric clearly isn't going to.

My mistake. It's Bill. The tension in the room ratchets up to a whole other level. I allow him to hug me briefly and then throw myself back into the relative safety of the couch.

I'm not a vampire but if it were me I'd definitely keep my thoughts to myself at this point . . . .

"Eric." Bill begins, sounding like a school teacher. "My human . . . ."

I bristle in indignation and Eric growls.

"She is your nothing, Compton. We both know you are playing a very weak card with all this _mine_ business."

Bill frowns and nods at me, a 'not in front of the human' gesture if ever I've seen one, and I resolve to have that conversation with Niall as soon as possible.

"I am sure you have many things you wish to say to me." Eric continues, his voice still flat and hard. "I will be at Fangtasia on our return to Shreveport, if you are stupid enough to still want to do so. In the meantime if you will excuse us, Sookie and I have a plane to catch."

With that he pushes away from the counter and grabs our bags, turning to me with a raised eyebrow.

I'm mad at him for putting me on the spot with Bill like this but I'm not sure if I'm mad enough to miss my ride home.

I get to my feet and then hesitate, looking between them like a spectator at a tennis match. Big scary vampire who isn't very fond of me at the moment on one side and soon to be ex-boyfriend on the other. Stuck between a rock and a hard place? I should stay with Bill and woman up to our problems.

Eric however has other ideas. Like Godric he hefts me easily over his shoulder and turns to Bill.

"You will not interfere." His tone is chilly to say the least. "She will be at her home, safe and sound, when you get back."

I lift my head to look up at Bill.

"I'm sorry. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'll see you when you get back."

In the elevator Eric sets me back on my feet without a word. I want to ask what that bullshit was all about and tear him off a strip for manhandling me, but his expression, reflected back at me in the polished metal walls, is not encouraging. So I swallow my anger and take a deep breath instead.

…..

It was a very long journey home. I avoided looking at Eric as much as possible because every time I did he looked like he was contemplating pushing me out of the plane. It's done nothing for my newly discovered fear of flying.

I survived though and my old farmhouse has never looked so lovely as my car bounces down the crappy driveway.

Although the two fairies waiting on the porch are a nifty new addition . . . .


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 7 Q & A**

**NPOV**

These frequent trips are raising eyebrows back home, not that even the daughters would dare question my actions. And I must say their thinly veiled attempts to get me to tell them what is going on have been most diverting. If it actually occurs to one of them to prepare a roast they might finally get somewhere.

My little ray of sunshine looks tired and drawn, even with the stalker's blood running through her veins.

"I am glad to see you well Great Granddaughter."

"Thanks." She sighs, lowering herself onto the porch steps next to me and leaning into my side.

I put my arm around her and let her snuggle closer. Fairies thrive when they are close to each other, my proximity will finish re-charging her spent reserves of energy. I doubt she realises why she accepts me so easily, I should probably explain at some point.

"Hi Ortel." She murmurs.

"Princess." He acknowledges and I shoot him a glare. She has enough to deal with, she does not need all that rigmarole to sort through as well, I seriously doubt she would be pleased to hear it anyway. She is not that kind of fairy.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" She asks after a long silence.

"Of course not. This is partly the reason for my visits. You wish to learn and I am happy to teach."

"What can you tell me about vampires?"

"Arrogant. Secretive. Allergic to silver. Frightened of emotions and wooden stakes. Prone to pomp, addicted to rules which most of them then ignore. Deadly to fairies."

"What?" She almost jumps to her feet but I keep her in place.

"Do not worry Sookie. They will never know you are fae unless you tell them, as with all my line you are gifted with a natural ability to mask your scent, you do not even need to think about it, you have been doing it all your life already. Fairy blood is highly attractive to vampires, it makes them intoxicated and any fairy unfortunate enough to be caught is always drained dry."

"Oh. That sucks."

"Quite. There are not many vampires left old enough to recognise the taste of fairy blood. Be careful who you share yours with, though it is diluted by your human genes an older vampire may recognise the taste."

She is thoughtful for a moment.

"Eric, the Sheriff, says I should ask Bill why he isn't protecting me properly." A pause. "It's come up a few times recently and I feel like I'm missing something important."

"He calls you his, yes?"

"Yes. Quite a lot actually." She huffs. "The first time we met Eric and the others Bill told me it would be better if they thought I was his, he said a vampire would not touch another's human, he was kinda embarrassed about it, like it was some sort of dirty secret, so I didn't mind playing along too much.

But it's gotten worse, the more time we spend around the others, and he seems particularly touchy about it where Eric is concerned. It's irritating but I also get the impression the other vampires are just humouring him when he does it, like it's not quite true or something."

She is very perceptive my little ray of sunshine.

"You have taken the oily little specimen's blood, yes?"

She nods.

"Blood is everything to vampires. They, and all other supernaturals for that matter, will be able to smell it in you. Vampires guard their blood jealously so its presence in yours suggests you have value to the blood's owner and if they know Bill then they will recognise the smell of his blood.

It is not permanent, the scent of him in you has been fading for some time, but it can be 'topped up'. It is also not a definitive claim of ownership over you. Some vampires would respect it and show deference to the blood's owner in their dealings with you, others would not. Drinking from you for example, would be considered rude, but not a breach of ownership. Vampires who are older than Bill, or have dominion over him, would be most likely to ignore the presence of his blood, possibly even going as far as taking you away completely."

I can feel her anger stirring, I assume this is not music to the ears of a modern woman, but in the supernatural world ownership and claim is what prevents, or starts, most of the trouble.

"Now that you have had Eric's blood, a far more powerful and older vampire, the oily specimen's hardly registers. A vampire who recognises Eric's blood in you is far more likely to observe the niceties for fear of the repercussions."

"So is Eric going to start puffing his chest out and calling me 'his' all the time now?"

"I do not know. I know a little of him and if he genuinely wanted to claim ownership of you I believe he would do it properly."

"You know Eric?" She seems surprised.

"I knew Godric." I admit and for a moment I think she is going to pursue that line of questioning but then, sensibly, she steers us back on track.

"So how would a vampire claim me properly?"

"A vampire and a human can bond through blood. It is called a blood bond unimaginatively enough. This is done by a mutual exchange, drinking from each other at the same time. The effects last longer than those of donated blood from the vampire and tie them together to a degree, again supernaturals will be able to smell the difference. This would be a recognised claim of ownership because in addition to the vampire feeling the human, the human would be able to feel the vampire and they do not like that sort of thing, therefore other vampires would recognise the significance. It is permanent only dissolving when the human dies but the bond of a single exchange does fade over time and the more time passes the more likely it is that another vampire can form a new bond and eradicate the first.

Exchanging a second time strengthens the bond, the participants are more aware of each other and its affects take longer to fade. Considering the lifespan of a normal human there is little chance of another vampire being able to bond to the human later, unless they have particularly powerful blood.

Exchanging for a third time binds the two together completely and is extremely rare and somewhat revered by vampires. No vampire would be able to break such a claim of ownership, no matter how powerful or ancient they were.

A vampire that has a bond to a human can control them through it, the stronger the bond, the greater the degree of control. It is not uncommon for some form of bond to be used to control a valuable asset. Such as a telepath, for example."

She is quiet for a long time.

"I don't know what to think." She says finally. "On the one hand Bill said he loved me but he never told me any of this. And he never offered to bond with me to protect me even though he was always saying other vampires would try to take me and abuse my disability. But I hate the idea of someone, him, being able to control me, that's just . . . ." She shivers. ". . . . _wrong_."

"Well, for once my child, you have an advantage. You are not human, you are fairy. A vampire cannot properly bond with you and they would _never_ be able to turn you."

"I'm guessing this is something else I should never tell them?" She whispers.

"You are correct. When you merely take their blood they can feel you and track you in the normal way, if they choose to. When they _bond_ with you it does not work quite the same way. Your fairy essence will reject their power. It cannot negate it, you _will_ be bound, but the degree of it will be considerably impacted and it will be your choice how much of that impact you reveal."

"They wouldn't be able to control me if I didn't want it?"

"Absolutely not."

Another reflective pause.

"Is there another way I can be protected?"

"Yes, Great Granddaughter." I poke her forehead for emphasis. "Use this far more than you use anything else. And purchase silver bullets for your shotgun."

She is still giggling when I sense the oily specimen approaching.

"We must leave, your oily little friend is coming."

"Thank you for coming to see me." She sighs regretfully.

"It is our pleasure." I assure her. "You have no idea how much I appreciate our time together."

I nod to Ortel and we pop away into the top of one of the nearby trees.

**SPOV**

I don't know how far away Bill is so I drag my bag inside and flip on the lights as I make my way to the kitchen. A quick inspection reveals that my dear brother has been over and cleaned me out of any and all things edible and my stomach growls in protest.

With a sigh I start fixing myself a drink, gasping in shock when Bill's cool arms close round me, pressing me against the counter.

"Sookie." He groans, burying his face in my hair. "You are safe. I was so worried about you."

Funny how the arms that used to feel so good now feel like a cage.

Uncomfortable I wriggle away from him, thankful that he lets me go so easily I turn to face him. Wondering how to start this conversation . . . .

"Did you go to see Eric?" I ask.

"No. I came straight here to check on you."

"Are you going to see him?"

"Sookie." He counters. "Why did you take Eric's blood? You are mine . . . ."

"I was injured. He offered and he was the best of the alternatives available. And I am not _yours_ Bill."

"Sookie, you know I only use this term to protect you from other vampires."

"So you keep telling me but it hasn't exactly worked has it? I have more of Eric's blood in me now than yours, doesn't that make me his instead?"

He narrows his eyes at me and he takes a step back. Oops, I may have overplayed my hand.

"What has Eric told you?" He asks, his voice becoming cold and hard.

"Nothing. I just assumed that having had your blood was the only way I could be classed as yours."

He shifts and actually looks uncomfortable. I feel bad but he hasn't been entirely truthful with me and I think, since he says he loves me, I'm entitled to know why.

"Is that not the case?" I press. "How is it that you are protecting me Bill?"

"Sookie, you do not understand."

"Then please explain it to me Bill."

"I cannot."

"Are you protecting me Bill?"

Silence.

"Bill?"

"Sookie, I have become very fond of you since I came to Bon Temps, I love you . . . ."

I sense a but coming.

". . . . and I am doing my best to make you safe, but it is difficult . . . ."

"If you love me why can't you tell me what's going on?"

He looks torn but I can feel my sympathy for him trickling away, seriously, if he loves me why can't he just tell me the truth?

"You should not have taken Eric's blood." He sighs finally, running his hand through his hair.

Obviously he isn't going to tell me anything. Fine. Two can play at that game.

"Bill Compton, I rescind your invitation."

It's almost funny, like someone's stuck a fish hook in the back of his shirt and is reeling him in.

"Sookie, no . . . ."

The door even slams behind him for extra emphasis.

Is my personality changing? It was very bad of me to have enjoyed that, Gran would be ashamed.

And there's a miserable thought.

I glance at the clock, I'm on the lunch shift tomorrow.

I switch the drink I was going to make for cocoa and lug it, and my bag down to my room, losing myself happily in my normal night time routine, finally laying my uniform out for tomorrow and setting the alarm. If it's nice in the morning I'll sunbathe for an hour to two after I've been to the store.

Sleep finds me easily but my dreams aren't what I was expecting. I'm pretty sure a naked Eric, riding a clam through the clouds, is cheese and not erotica . . . .


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 8 Blindsided**

**EPOV**

My office feels very small tonight but I force myself to focus on my work. And I do mean force, you learn great strength of will in a thousand years of life.

Pam knocks on my door.

"Enter."

"Compton is here to see you."

I had wondered if he would be that stupid and I find I am not disappointed that he is. Violence can be very cleansing and I find myself in need of both at this moment.

"Show him in."

Pam smiles, picking up on my anticipation through our bond as she turns to leave. Our Maker-Child bond is particularly strong, surpassed only by mine and Godric's . . . .

My pen snaps in my hand, spattering me with ink.

Interestingly when Pam ushers him into my office Compton does not look like has come for a fight, quite the opposite in fact.

"Eric . . . ."

I raise my eyebrow.

"Sheriff." He amends quickly. "I have come to ask for your help."

Words fail me so I indicate for him to continue.

"As you know I have spent time serving our Queen in her court."

I nod.

"You may not be aware of my actual role."

I shake my head.

"I was Her Majesty's Procurer." He says with a flourish.

Is he expecting a medal, or a chest to pin it on?

"Her Majesty sent me to Bon Temps to procure something for her."

Now we are getting somewhere. While not absolutely necessary, it is usual for a monarch to tell their Sheriff when they require something from their area.

"One of Her Majesty's pets has a relative with a particularly interesting gift."

"Sookie." I state and he nods.

"Her Majesty wanted me to ascertain the strength of Sookie's gift and if it would be of use to her. As you are aware Sookie's talent is growing the more she practices, the Queen will be most pleased when she discovers this."

I nod. Sophie Anne does love her shiny toys and baubles.

"I do not wish the Queen to have Sookie."

"I fail to see what you can do about that Compton."

"Realistically I can do nothing. But you _could_."

I blink, the most surprise I have shown for a long time and he rushes on.

"I am forbidden to bond with Sookie but the Queen has issued no such edict to you. You can protect her, in all innocence of the Queen's interest."

Without warning I leap over my desk, subduing him before he can even react.

"Pam!" I growl. "Prepare the Guest Coffin, the sliver one."

"Master." She responds from just outside the door where she has been eavesdropping.

Choking off Compton's air so he cannot speak I drag him to his feet and along the corridor to the basement steps, bumping him down them like a child's toy bear before carelessly tossing him into the open coffin.

Pam flips the lid closed, cutting off his protests before he can get started. Already wearing gloves she binds it in silver chains for extra security and then follows me back to my office.

"Call the Queen's offices and request an audience, tell them it is urgent but that I have not explained why to you."

She nods and blurs away.

I do not know where to even start with this development. The whole scenario beggars belief.

The Queen has sent him here to procure the telepath? Why? If she had asked me to deliver her I would have done it, even without knowing I have no interest in the asset, she knows I would have done it. Disobedience is punished, even mine.

He does not want Sophie Anne to have the telepath? Why? Even if I could believe Compton does care for the human, Sophie Anne is not a cruel Mistress, quite the opposite, her humans are all spoilt and over indulged. She would probably not even object to Compton retaining a relationship with the woman if that is what he wanted.

And why offer her to me? If I wanted her I would have taken her many weeks ago. That aside I am well known for not keeping humans, they are too much responsibility and too much of a security risk.

Even if I were interested, he has forced my hand. If it were ever discovered he told me of the Queen's interest before I claimed the telepath then I would be guilty of treason. Is that the plan, the trap?

I am older, stronger and more politically connected than Sophie Anne, a reality we both acknowledge. She would need support to end me and a conviction for treason would be an effective way of getting it. But I do not understand why she would want to be rid of me, having me in her service is far more of a boon to her than it is to me, and if this is a trap it is not a very good one, since I am going to deliver the human _and_ Compton to her at the earliest opportunity.

I am a little disappointed to discover that the game was not as complex as I had thought. I was looking forward to the opportunity to pry the telepath's secrets from her. Although perhaps, after this morning when she was strangely able to give me comfort, it is better to be rid of her entirely.

"The Queen will see you tomorrow tonight." Pam informs me, returning to my office. "What do you want me to do with Compton?"

"Leave him. Sophie Anne will decide on his punishment I am sure. Send someone to guard the human, it would be most unfortunate to lose her at this point."

…..

She is in her dayroom, a ludicrous folly of artificially produced daylight and ornate pools.

"Eric." She seems pleased to see me. "My favourite Sheriff, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I have news my Queen."

"Sit down."

I perch on the chaise opposite hers.

"Majesty I understand you sent Compton to my area to procure a telepath?"

"That is correct." She says easily. "I didn't want to bother you with it until he had verified that her gift was worthy of my interest."

Plausible.

"It seems that Compton has become attached to the human. He offered her to me in order to prevent your claim."

Sophie Anne's eyes narrow dangerously.

"I will be honest my Queen, she has had my blood recently, I owed her the healing in Dallas. But I have no interest in owning her myself."

"Yes. I heard about Dallas. My condolences."

I nod stiffly.

"Where is Compton?"

"I have detained him."

"So efficient." She laughs. "And the telepath?"

"Unaware of the situation."

"I was going to contact Compton about her this week. Stan was full of praise for her abilities." She sighs. "This is what I get for mainstreaming, I thought if she was enamoured of Compton, he can be very charming, she would come here to serve me willingly and the rest would be child's play. No mind, sometimes the old ways are the best ways. How soon can you have her delivered here?"

"I can send one of my officers with her tomorrow at first dark."

"Excellent."

"And Compton?"

"Make him miserable for a week of two and then send him back here. He is too useful to kill and he may yet prove influential where she is concerned."

Before I can respond the doors swing wide and one of her minions enters.

"Your Majesty, Mr Cataliades is here to see you on a matter of some urgency."

Sophie Anne rolls her eyes at me playfully, truly I hope she is not in that kind of mood, and motions for me to remain where I am.

"Send him in."

A few minutes later the rotund demon lawyer scurries in with a very tall, very broad, _very_ good looking human in tow.

"Your Majesty." The lawyer gushes. "It is so gracious of you to see me at such short notice."

"Desmond, you are always welcome here, you know that." She flutters her eyelashes and the demon actually simpers in pleasure. "And who is this delightful young man?"

"This is one of my trainees, I have brought a lot of paperwork with me and he carries it very well."

The Queen laughs and only centuries of self-control prevent me from rolling my eyes. This ridiculous _dance_ is one of the reasons I have no interest in becoming a monarch. Ever.

"How can I help you this evening Desmond?"

"I am here on behalf of Sookie Stackhouse Your Majesty."

For the second time in two nights I blink.

The Queen's jovial demeanour slips to her ankles and it is possible to see the qualities that made her a monarch in the first place.

"Perhaps you had better explain Mr Cataliades." She commands in a clipped tone.

"At the request of my client, The Ancient Pythoness has ratified Ms Stackhouse as a member of the supernatural community."

That gives her certain rights which may prevent the Queen from just taking her. Interesting.

"And who is your client?"

The lawyer's human is smiling.

"I am not at liberty to divulge his name Your Majesty. The Ancient Pythoness has also upheld my client's claim of ownership of Ms Stackhouse."

"Show me." Sophie Anne demands, and the human hands over the relevant documents.

We are silent while she scans them and then utters a most unladylike oath.

Clearly annoyed the Queen tips the documents carelessly onto the floor.

"The Ancient Pythoness has also approved the contract my client is offering to undertake with the state of Louisiana for the protection of Ms Stackhouse."

"The terms?" The Queen snaps.

"My client will pay the sum of your current IRS bill, plus future incentives. Ms Stackhouse's freedom is not to be impinged in any way by the protection the state provides under the contract. No one beside the four of is ever to be made aware of the existence of the contract or edicts from The Ancient Pythoness and that includes Ms Stackhouse. As far as other vampires and supernaturals are concerned Ms Stackhouse is a human, the property of Eric Northman and works under contract for you. Should any permanent harm befall Ms Stackhouse during the lifetime of the contract the penalty will be the true death. Should either one of you meet your true death outside of the agreement the burden of the contract falls to the survivor and recompense will be adjusted accordingly. The details and clauses are outlined in this next document."

The human, now grinning, hands it over.

"The Ancient Pythoness has agreed to this?" The Queen asks in genuine surprise.

"Oh yes Your Majesty. She is more than happy to discuss it with you at the summit in Rhodes, or you can telephone her, you have the number. Oh apologies Northman, Niall, you have a copy for him also I believe."

The human's grin widens as he hands me a copy of what appears to be my death sentence.

"What is she?" The Queen asks as she begins scanning the document.

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information either Your Majesty."

Even with vampire speed it takes us several hours to read and re-read the accompanying documents. The Ancient Pythoness has indeed placed the telepath beyond the legal claim of any supernatural and worse she has indeed served Sophie Anne and I up on a platter to protect her with our lives. It is unprecedented and I cannot imagine who wields that kind of power. Nor for the moment how I am going to find out.

An hour before dawn the lawyer and his still smirking friend take their leave.

"Fuck! The Queen screams, leaping to her feet and pacing the room.

My sentiments exactly. First Godric and now this. My life has gone very wrong, very quickly.

"You had better make the arrangements for her protection immediately." She snarls after a few minutes.

"I am not a bodyguard." I point out.

"You are now Northman. A vampire of two thousand years or over is required to co-sign the Ancient Pythoness's rulings. Godric has signed these."

She shoves the papers she spilled onto the floor earlier toward me with her well shod toe and I go cold as I read them. She is correct, Godric was aware of these rulings, in fact they and the contract were approved by him several years ago, waiting to be enforced. Why did he do this to me? Why did he never tell me?

"Get over it." The Queen sneers as I stare at the papers in my hands, willing them not to shake.

I glare up at her and immediately she drops her eyes and turns away.

It takes several minutes for me to regain control of myself.

"This would be much easier to accomplish if we kept her existence hidden." I observe when I am finally able to start thinking again.

"Yes. Unfortunately the other monarchs are expecting to see her in Rhodes and faking her death would impinge on her freedom, don't you think?"

My growl is out before I can stop it but the Queen is oblivious.

"Hire all the help you need Northman and find out what she is and who has instigated this situation. It is _intolerable_ for either of us to be placed in this predicament."

"_Yes_ Your Majesty." The murderous conviction in my tone pleases her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 9 Confluence**

**EPOV**

I contained myself all the way back to Shreveport and Fangtasia, striding through bar without acknowledging anyone, the vampires at least knew to stay out of my way, a few of the vermin weren't so lucky. As soon as my office door closed behind me I lost it.

Thanks to the Great Revelation I sometimes have to confine my rage to inanimate objects.

Done wrecking my office I fling myself down the corridor and into the basement, taking a moment to get control again before I rip the chains off the silver coffin and flip open the lid.

The sting of pain and the smell of my burnt hands helps prevent me from ripping his throat out the moment I see him. I would dearly like to, I apportion some of the blame for this to him.

Merely weakened rather than injured by the close proximity of the silver, Compton sits up slowly.

Wordlessly I hand him a pack of donor blood from the cooler we keep down here, watching while he consumes it, he does not seem bothered about what I did to him.

"You have your wish Compton. The Queen is aware that I have claimed the telepath."

His eyes widen slightly.

"When you detained me I assumed you were going to turn us both over to the Queen." He says carefully. Is that disappointment I detect?

"Assume makes an ass out of u and of me, as the humans would say." Yes, this has definitely not turned out the way he was hoping and I can see an extended stay for him in this basement in the near future. "Get out of the coffin, Pam has another guest waiting to use it."

Slowly he climbs out, still weak.

"You need to feed." I observe. "Make sure it is neither from _my_ human nor on these premises."

He glares at me and I grin back nonchalantly. I would dearly like to hurt and kill something at this point, Compton will do at a push.

"You will bring her here tomorrow night. You will tell her nothing about what has transpired but in the meantime her safety is your responsibility. I have already arranged day time security for her with the Shreveport Pack, you will not tell her of this either."

He nods, starting for the steps.

"And Compton. If you believe this gives you any kind of advantage over me you are sorely mistaken. Am I making myself clear?"

"Sheriff." He acknowledges as he disappears.

Yes, urge to kill definitely rising.

"Pam! Bring that fucking traitor down here!"

In moments she arrives, shoving a pudgy excuse for a vampire down the steps before her.

"Ah Eddie." I croon. "My little blood selling friend, you have no idea how pleased I am to see you this evening."

**SPOV**

The last three days have passed in a hazy blur of normality.

I sunbathed. Worked the lunch shift. Did my chores at home and let the TV turn my brain to mush before bed each night.

But something hasn't quite been right.

I am bored and I am lonely.

With the excitement of Dallas over, I'm starting to find the strangest things exciting it seems, I have had more time to think about Gran and miss her. It's a constant sadness and regret tugging at the back of my mind.

I haven't seen hide or hair of Bill and the guilt is nagging at me. I haven't treated him very well, I owe him an explanation and an apology but it's been two nights already, what if I've upset him so much he never wants to see me again? I know it's corny but though I don't think of him as my boyfriend anymore I still want us to be friends. Not that I'm entirely happy with him at the moment, boyfriend or no he's hiding something from me and I think he owes me the truth. I've bitten the bullet and dropped a note off at his house, apologising and suggesting that we talk, so the ball's in his court now.

I haven't seen Jason either, he's got himself a girlfriend and I'm guessing by his absence she can cook. Not that he's told me that, his best friend Hoyt told me when he came in for lunch yesterday.

Of course I have seen Sam and Tara, at work, Tara tends the bar at Merlotte's. She's over her anti vampire snit already so we're back to normal. Sam is a whole other story. He's barely spoken to me since I got back. I know why, he can smell Eric's blood in me and as far as he's concerned Eric is the devil incarnate, and on some days he wouldn't be far off the truth. I'd like to explain how I got Eric's blood and how it was a safer alternative than Stan's but I don't think it's my place to make the first move, it's not like I've done anything wrong.

Arlene, my fellow waitress and sometime friend is still struggling with the whole Rene business, not that anyone can blame her, to be on the edge of marrying someone and then find out they're a multiple murderer, that's gotta hurt. The trouble is Arlene doesn't suffer quietly, she takes her issues out on the people around her, so she isn't home to Mrs Nice at the moment. The rest of us know the signs but the new waitress, Holly, hasn't got used to her yet and is on the verge of quitting.

So that all explains the lonely.

The bored is more problematic. I've always loved my job and barely regretted how poorly I did at school. I know I'm not stupid, but being able to read minds, well, it made it hard to concentrate at school. But now, I'm starting to wonder if there's some kind of course I could do that would broaden my horizons. Maybe bookkeeping or something, I help Sam out with that from time to time. Or something with people? The more control I've gained over my disability the easier I've found it to be around people, and talking with the customers and messing with the staff at Merlotte's is the best part of my job. I feel sort of ungrateful, Sam's been nothing but supportive of me but is this really all my life can be? Fending off drunks at Merlotte's when they've had enough to forget I'm crazy and can only see my blonde hair and big boobs? Is it wrong to hope for something better than that?

Thanks to vampires I already have one potential career path ahead of me and I really enjoyed what I did in Dallas. Well, right up until the kidnap and almost rape part. And there's a bit of me that's really curious about what I can do with my little disability. But, and it's a big but. Vampires are dangerous, possibly more so to me than most. I don't want to lose my freedom, or my life, and I don't want to be whored around for my telepathy. But if there was a way to do it on my terms and without too much risk? I could certainly earn a living at it. My fee from Dallas will keep me going for a good three months and I can only guess what Bill and Eric's cut was. That annoys me, I'm all for someone getting commission for finding me work so I don't begrudge Eric for whatever he got, but why the hell should Bill get money for playing at me being his human? Problem is I don't see a way to branch out on my own, wouldn't I need to be properly somebody's human in order to be protected? The idea of the human vampire bonds Niall described fairly makes my skin crawl but since it wouldn't affect me the same way would it actually be so bad? How would I be able to get one to do it without them realising it wasn't working properly? Because I sure as hell don't trust any of them with my secrets. No, bad idea entirely, even if I can't be controlled I can still be abused, best not to serve myself up on a plate.

Unfortunately, I realise, since I'm already 'out there' in the vampire world the damage may already be done. With no vampire claiming me, at some point it could turn into open season on Sookie Stackhouse. I've already bought the silver bullets, they were expensive, but I can feel another conversation with Niall coming on.

So. Lonely, bored and a little bit scared.

Nice.

…..

I'm barely out of the shower and dressed again when there's a knock at the door.

It's dark.

"Sookie."

It's Bill.

We gaze at each other in uncomfortable silence.

"I know you want to talk." He says finally. "And I do too. But Eric has summoned us to Fangtasia."

"What does he want now?" I sigh. I was hoping to avoid Eric for a while, what with being an unwelcome witness to his pain and all.

"I have no idea, I imagine he has another job for you."

"Do I need to get dressed up?" I ask, gesturing to my jeans and simple t-shirt.

"You look beautiful as you are." He replies gallantly and we both smile.

"Wait here, while I get my purse and lock up."

He nods and turns to settle himself on the porch steps. I don't know why but I'm hesitant to invite him in again just yet.

I grab my purse and a jacket in case it's late when we're done and allow him to help me into his car. It's much nicer than mine.

The drive passes in strained silence but as we pull up in the parking lot at Fangtasia he turns to me, an unhappy expression on his face.

"Sookie. I want you to know I am sorry, for everything."

"Bill, don't apologise, we need to talk . . . ." Not here, not now, let me get Eric out of the way first, _please_.

He smiles sadly.

"Will you have dinner with me when we are done with Eric?"

"I'd love to."

His smile's still sad as we exit the car and bypass the enormous queue outside the door.

Pam's there.

"Ah." She drawls. "Trouble and his little human accomplice. My Master is waiting for you. It is not really my place to warn you, but he is in a _vile_ mood."

Then she grins evilly and sweeps her hand toward the door.

"Go on in."

No surprises so far. The bar is packed, the dance floor heaving with bodies, an adoring crowd a respectful distance from Eric's throne.

I slip my shields down, nothing but the usual Fangbanger dross.

Eric does indeed look to be in a vile mood and as soon as his eyes alight on us I would say it plummets to even darker depths. And we're not the only ones who've noticed.

_Wow. I wonder what they did? He's pissed._

_That's it I came I saw, I'm going for a burger and then home, that vamp looks like he's about to kill someone and it ain't gonna be me . . . ._

_Maybe he don't want her after all, he don't look very pleased to see her this time. If only he'd show some interest in me._

_Sookie! I'd fetch her a gin and tonic but the way the Master's glaring at her maybe she won't be staying long . . . ._

Eric unfolds himself from his throne and strides toward his office, Bill and I follow dutifully.

When we arrive at my human pace he's already sat behind his desk, tapping away at his laptop.

"Sookie, sit. Compton, leave."

And unbelievably he does, without uttering a word of protest or even looking at me, so much for wanting to keep me safe.

The door closes behind him with an ominous click.

"I believe I told you to sit." After nearly a full minute Eric raises his icy blue eyes to mine.

"I am not a dog."

He sighs with elaborate patience.

"Please, Ms Stackhouse, _SIT_ down."

I drop into the nearest chair, knees almost giving out in the process. The Fangbanger was right, he _is_ pissed. What did I do this time, kick his puppy?

He returns his attention to the laptop.

Silence.

"I have claimed you." He says suddenly, without looking up.

"Excuse me? No you haven't." Oops, problems with the brain to mouth filter again.

Now he looks up, eyes boring into mine. I look away first, of course.

"Compton has explained ownership to you then?" He asks.

"Something like that." Still not looking at him.

Silence.

Eventually I have to look at him, the walls just aren't that captivating. He has beautiful eyes, they're like oceans and you could lose yourself in them, if you didn't know what's lurking beneath . . . .

"Then you will know that in order for my claim to have merit I must bond with you?"

This conversation is going in an interesting direction, however I don't want to give anything else away and I have a reputation for being difficult.

"That's a very tempting offer Eric, but no. I am a person not a possession and certainly not your possession."

He smiles like the predator he is and closes the laptop.

Careful Sookie, don't push him too far.

"In order to be protected you need to be owned by a vampire with power."

"Aw, Eric, you want to protect me? That's sweet."

He slams his hand down on the desk, sending the items on the top leaping into the air. The wood cracks in protest.

Okay. I'll be good now.

"What I want has no influence on this. I would rather have nothing to do with you at all."

"Then why?"

"I will not explain myself to you."

"You'll have to tell me something if you expect me to exchange blood with you." I lift my chin defiantly.

"You seem to be under the misapprehension that I will be giving you a choice."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 10 Bond Villain**

**SPOV**

He lets that sink in for a while, its working, I'm scared, not that I'll give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

He smirks. Damn, I've had his blood, he knows.

Despite his apparent decision to hate my guts I still trust Eric, and being bonded to him would probably protect me from being taken by another vampire but still, I loathe that he'd force me. And besides, what will he do if he finds out he can't control me? And what will he expect? He's not fucking me and feeding from me like a Fangbanger . . . .

"Does it help if I tell you that Compton has asked me to do this?"

"What? No! What?" I'm eloquent when I'm surprised. Not.

"He asked me to claim you and protect you because he cannot."

Filed for later consideration.

"I'm sorry Eric but I can't see you doing this out of the goodness of your heart, especially not for Bill."

"How very perceptive of you."

"Then again, Eric, why?"

"Perhaps I simply do want to protect you. You are turning out to be a valuable source of revenue after all, it would be extremely inconvenient if someone borrowed you and failed to bring you back."

Like a book at the library. Lovely. It's a motivation I can believe him capable of though.

"I thought you said you'd rather not have anything to do with me at all."

His eyes flash and I resist the temptation to avert mine again.

"Willing or not Sookie we will exchange blood tonight. I have no interest in keeping you as a pet, this is purely a business arrangement between us. Your life is your own unless I require your services as a telepath, services for which you will be financially compensated."

"That's it?"

"Not quite."

I knew it, if something's too good to be true it probably isn't Gran used to say.

"Since I will be blocking off our bond at my end most of the time, as mentioned I have no interest in you, I expect you to advise me if you are leaving my area. Failure to do so will result in me using the bond to find you and dragging you back by the hair."

Viking, Bill told me.

"You will be provided with daytime protection . . . ."

"What?"

"You will be provided with daytime protection. A bodyguard. A werewolf. He will not impinge on your life but if you attempt to give him the slip I refer you to my previous comment regarding the hair. His name is Alcide Herveaux and he will be at your house at dawn."

We'll see about that.

"There are certain appearances that must be maintained in order to support our bonding. I do not care who you fuck or why but when you are with me and in the presence of vampires you will not _ever_ have the scent of another male on you or in you. Of any kind, human, were, vampire or other. Do you understand?"

Disgusted, but nodding.

"You must never willingly take another vampire's blood nor allow them to take yours. It is my responsibility to prevent that happening but vampire can be devious."

Yes, I've noticed.

"If you are asked whether or not you are shared. You are not. If you are asked about the nature of our bonding, look demure and refer the questioner to me."

Sharing? Ew.

"Do. Not. Ever. Disrespect me or talk back to me in front of other vampires. I will be forced to punish you and you will not enjoy it."

No, but I bet you will.

"There is bound to more but they are the main points. Do you have any questions?"

Millions.

"I'm not getting a choice in this?"

"No. You should be grateful. I am making a mutually beneficial arrangement with you. Other vampire would simply take you and use you as they saw fit."

An offer I can't refuse, but something that might work in my favour, the way he's described it he might never notice the bond isn't quite right and it will fade over time anyway. Knowing I have to be practical I fight down the completely normal urge to run screaming into the bar, begging for someone to save me.

Time ticks by as we glare at each other. I'd thought being Eric he'd just want to do this thing but he seems as reluctant as I do.

_. . . . cannot touch her . . . . do not want . . . ._

What?

Oh shit, shit. Please tell me that's not Eric, not again . . . .

Abruptly he jerks to his feet, moving over to the sofa and sitting back down.

"This will work best if you sit here." He indicates the space between his long, spread thighs.

Gulp.

Oh god, he's hard. I don't want to do this, can't we just use a cup and a knife or something?

He's caught me looking and for once he actually seems uncomfortable about it rather than obscenely proud.

"It is not you." He growls. "The giving and taking of blood is a highly erotic thing for vampires. I cannot help it."

I hesitate and suddenly he's off the sofa, grabbing me and sitting down again with my body firmly trapped between his thighs.

I'm terrified and hyper aware of him as he pulls me back against his chest and clamps an arm around my waist to hold me in place.

"Please, Eric, _please_." I whimper. "I don't want to do this, I don't care how sensible it is, I'm scared, _please_, don't make me . . . ."

"We have no choice."

And his fangs snick into place.

"I do not wish to hurt you Sookie, trust me."

He pulls my hair out of the way and I nearly have a heart attack when he gently rubs his nose up and down the skin of my neck.

"You must relax or my bite will hurt."

I can't relax, I can't . . . .

His nose continues to stroke my neck, so soft, like a butterfly fluttering against it. And then his cool tongue darts out to taste me, swirling over my skin.

He groans slightly, pressing his erection into me and to my absolute horror my body pushes back at him. He tightens his grip around my waist, raising his other arm to his mouth and I hear his fangs tearing the skin.

"Drink." He orders in a low voice, pressing it my lips.

My tongue darts out of its own accord, lapping at a drop of blood trailing down his pale skin.

He groans again, pushing himself into me with more force, pulling me back with the arm at my waist. I'm warm, warm all over, but still as afraid as I've ever been.

"Drink me." He murmurs into my neck, fangs scrapping lightly across the skin as he undulates our bodies together again.

I close my lips around the wounds sucking his rich sweet blood delicately.

"_Ungh_. Drink me. _Sookie_ . . . ." His voice is a throaty low moan now, our bodies rocking together.

The hand from my waist is now rubbing me through my jeans. Feels so good. I don't even notice when his fangs slide into my flesh, I only know they're there because now everything is ebbing and flowing in perfect unison. My sucks from his wrist, his pulls from my neck, our bodies writhing against each other, his fingers curling into the fabric of my jeans between my thighs.

I'm so warm, no, so hot, I feel like my muscles have turned to liquid fire, can't breathe, he tastes so good, feels so good . . . .

I release his wrist and cry out in surprise as a soft but exquisitely powerful orgasm rolls through me, leaving me shuddering against him as he reaches a climax of his own, his fangs vibrating slightly in my neck.

I feel weightless, boneless and witless as he rolls our bodies together gently, bringing us down until his fangs retract and I feel his tongue again, closing and healing the puncture marks.

Trouble is coming for this, I know it, but for now I collapse back against him and his arms close tightly round me. It's, _comforting_.

"I cannot feel you." He says quietly, making no effort to move, nor allowing me to. "Can you feel me?"

I hunt around inside myself for anything that's different. Definitely had more vampire blood, I'm _alive_ with it and all my senses are sharper. And there he is, I know it's him, it feels like him in a way I can't quite explain. He's a pulsing white light, for want of a better description, in my mind. It's not as unpleasant as I was expecting, not that I really know what I was expecting, big dark cloud in my head with Eric's glowering face in it possibly.

But I can't feel his emotions. I wonder if it's something to do with my shields for the telepathy or if it's just the fairy thing and I'll never be able to do it. I poke around for a bit and to my relief discover that I can open the bond at my end.

He floods into me like a force of nature and I hastily shove the shields back in place before he washes me away. There's a lot to Eric, apparently, and I won't be doing that again in a hurry.

"I felt your surprise." He chuckles. "Briefly."

"It's my disability, it blocks you like it does other people's thoughts. But I can't let you in like that, it's too much, I'm only human."

"I was not prepared. I was pushing my emotions at you to see if you could feel them. If I ever need to do it again I will be more cautious."

"Thanks."

"This is good." He observes. "I will not need to be bothered by you and you will not need to be bothered by me. However if you are in danger and need me you can open the bond and let me know."

"How will that work if you're blocking at your end?"

"Good point. Perhaps we can knock?"

Knock? Oh.

"Close down your end, let me try."

He nods against my shoulder, we're still cuddling, I'll get to that later . . . .

There he is, the Eric light. Hey, knock, knock.

No reaction.

ERIC!

Nope.

I give him a good mental slap and his body jerks behind me. Just before I close him off I feel surprise from _him_.

"Your turn." I prompt, fighting back a smile.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

I turn my attention inward, the Eric light is still pulsing but it looks, _annoyed_. I let him in briefly, yep annoyed, and then shove him out again.

"I have to be paying attention to know you're trying to get through." Is he buying what I'm selling?

"Then you had better be sure you are paying attention when I need you to." He sounds amused.

"I don't see a problem if I can't feel you. No offence but I probably don't want to feel some of what you do."

"We will have to work on it. There may be times when it would be useful if I could send a warning or instruction."

"Like what?" I ask suspiciously. Instruction sounds like control to me.

"Run? Duck? Be careful? Shut up?" He offers.

"Okay." I concede. "We can work on it."

We fall back into silence.

And, then the trouble comes.

A knock on the door has me crashing all the way back to myself and struggling to get away from Eric at the same time, fortunately he lets me go. What the holy fucking _hell_ is wrong with me? One orgasm and I'm anybody's? This is Eric for crying out loud. He doesn't even like me anymore, other than the unfortunate dry humping he couldn't have made that any more obvious. How could I . . . . What's wrong with me? It's not even like I can _avoid_ him, I just _bonded_ to him, I am _such_ an idiot . . . .

"Enter." Eric commands.

Pam surges in and her fangs run down as the sniffs the air.

I throw my hands up in frustration. Is nothing private? Not even my every damn mistake?

"Eric. Your visitors are waiting."

"I will be out shortly."

Pam withdraws and I'm forced to look at Eric again. The hard and angry look is in his icy blue eyes again as he looks back at me.

Old Eric, who turned up briefly just now, is gone and new, not improved Eric, the Sookie hater, is sitting in his place. Talk about coming back down to earth with a bump.

Without a word he gets up and disappears into the closet, emerging a few seconds later in clean jeans and a light blue shirt.

"My visitors are human, this will be a good opportunity for you to read them."

"What am I looking for?"

"It is a simple business deal. Look for their motivations and intentions."

I follow him down the hallway. A simple business deal. Look for motivations and intentions. I could almost take that as advice.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 11 Call Me When You Need Me**

**SPOV**

I wasn't delayed long with the humans, nothing of note there, but I wasn't getting dinner with Bill either. I didn't even see him, Pam took me home. She didn't speak to me, just kept looking over at me from time to time and chuckling quietly to herself. That made me feel better. Not.

I showered again and put myself to bed but sleep eluded me. All in all I don't think bonding with Eric was a bad idea under the circumstances, it would take a brave vampire to mess with him, I've always known that . And if he keeps his word about our business deal then the impact on me should be minimal.

But as is always with me I only realise I haven't thought things through properly after the fact. When we exchanged blood I hadn't felt anything much more than embarrassingly turned on, in fact I'd been a bit smug about the fact that I knew more about what was going to happen than he did. Stupid, stupid, Sookie. I should have asked for some time, talked to Niall again before leaping off the deep end.

I can feel him now, Eric, creeping through me like a barium meal, warm and vaguely foreign. And I'm frightened to go to sleep in case I wake up in the morning and find something I can't deal with staring back at me from the mirror.

And I'm praying it's just my over active imagination. All sorts of random fears are making themselves known, the way they do late at night when your rational mind has all but checked out and your body is trying to make you sleep.

What if this feeling is because I'm turning? What if the warmth is Eric's blood working its way through every cell like venom? I don't want to be a vampire, I'd rather be dead, I love the sun.

What if it's him? Insidiously eroding my barriers so that when I wake in the morning I'm nothing more than his puppet? Maybe his blood is so strong it can burn away the fairy in mine?

What if, what if, there are so many things I don't know . . . . visceral fear has me tossing and turning, sweating in my sheets, thrashing my limbs, gasping . . . .

My mind scrambles, following the path of the feeling, trying desperately to pull the warmth back, expel it from my body somehow. But I can't do it, nothing will stop it, I've been fighting it for what feels like hours, years, _millennia_. Frantic, desperate, terrified, I turn to the Eric light pulsing gently, innocuously, but when I try to access it, to find out what's happening to me, let him know I need help, there's a blinding explosion of light before everything goes black.

…..

Bang, bang, bang.

Whoa. Hangover?

Bang, bang, bang.

I don't remember drinking anything . . . .

Oh, not true.

Eric.

Bang, bang, bang.

The door.

"Okay." I croak.

Bang, bang, bang.

"Okay!" Jesus, ouch.

"Ms Stackhouse?"

"Humph."

"Sorry. It's getting late I was worried about you."

"Humph."

"I'm Alcide. Herveaux. Your bodyguard."

Oh.

"Just give me a minute. Sorry. Bad night."

"Okay, no rush Ms Stackhouse, I'll be out here waiting."

My manners have deteriorated rapidly these last few days. Gran must be spinning in her grave.

Squinting against the light I drag myself into the bathroom to relieve my protesting bladder. If he can hear me speak from out there he can probably hear this too. I'm not sure how I feel about that, embarrassed naturally, but, with his hearing he must have heard a lady pee before mustn't he? There are more reasons for humans to be grateful for their ignorance of the supernatural world than they'll ever know.

I need a shower, nightmare sweat is clinging to my skin, making it feel clammy, but now I know he's out there it would be rude to keep him waiting any longer. At least I assume it would be, I've never had a bodyguard before. And I don't want one now. Eric, Mr I Am In Charge Here. I might not remember the nightmare that's turned me into a woolly minded wreck this morning but I remember the rest of last night well enough.

Speaking of which, I turn inward seeking out the Eric light, but I can't find it. Huh. I guess when he's dead for the day he's dead for me too. That could be useful . . . .

Oh. The bodyguard. Right.

I wash quickly and drag on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, flinging the door open with a neutral expression of southern unwelcome already on my face, only to find a handsome and well-built man pacing my porch with almost lupine grace. Obviously.

Wow. Almost as tall as Eric he rivals him, a bit, in almost every other respect. Tall, muscular, dark haired. Warm, dark brown eyes.

Having not quite got to grips with other people's unwanted thoughts yet this morning I catch a stray one out of his snarly two natured mind.

_. . . . wow, not a Fangbanger . . . ._

"I am _so_ sorry." I gush, aware that the Crazy Sookie grin has taken over. "I had every intention of being ready when you got here but I had a real bad night's sleep. I should have set the alarm. Would you like some tea, um, coffee, um . . . ." I check my watch. "Lunch, um, late lunch?"

"There's no need to worry about that Ms Stackhouse, I've made my own arrangements."

"Alcide, right?"

He nods.

"I'm sorry. I _have_ had a really bad night but my Gran would skin me alive if I let you sit out here without offering any hospitality. At least come inside and have a drink while I get some lunch."

For the first time he smiles.

Wow. Again.

In the kitchen we go through the whole what do you like scenario before I get him sat down with a tall iced tea.

Flustered and off balance I make myself a bowl of cereal, its breakfast time to me, and marshal my startled thoughts. There never seems to be a moment for me to completely get to grips with anything lately and somehow I can't see today, or what's left of it, turning out any different.

"So." I begin, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs with a little more force than I normally would. "I've never had a bodyguard before and I'm not sure I need or want one now. I don't really like the idea of someone dogging my every step."

He laughs and I realise what I've said.

"Oh, sorry."

"No worries Ms Stackhouse . . . ."

"Sookie, please."

"No worries Sookie, I'm a wolf not a doggie anyway." And he flashes those decidedly un-canine white teeth at me again before continuing. "I'm not normally a bodyguard, my dad and I own a construction firm but I owe Northman a favour and he's asked me to look out for you until he can get a professional in place."

I don't like the sound of that, I'm picturing someone who dresses like a commando and keeps popping out of bushes with a giant knife clenched between his teeth.

"As to whether or not you need one." He goes on with a shrug. "Vamps don't tend to do anything they don't have to. If Northman thinks you need a bodyguard, you probably need a bodyguard."

I digest that for a moment. This whole thing with Eric was about me knowing I needed protecting from other vampires and he'd clearly come to the same conclusion, though not with the same interest in my personal wellbeing that I have.

"Eric said he'd drag me back the hair if I gave you the slip." I tell him, watching his reaction.

First his face twists in disgust. Then he consciously smooths out his features.

_. . . . nasty . . . ._

"He did indicate to me that you wouldn't like the idea of being guarded. But trust me Sookie, I'm a were, you wouldn't be able to give me the slip."

Confidence? Sookie likes a challenge . . . .

"What exactly does guarding me involve?" I ask, getting back to the crux of the matter.

"I'm to be near you at all times but not interfere with you unless I think you're in danger. You'll need to trust me Sookie, my senses are a lot sharper than yours, if I tell you we need to do something. We need to do it."

I nod. I can see how that would have to work.

"Alcide, forgive me, but I can't see how having a large man following me around everywhere isn't going to 'interfere' with my life?"

He laughs, a deep rumbling sound, that gets a genuine smile from me in return. I like him.

"Then let's talk about how we can work together Sookie . . . ."

Two hours and a great deal of haggling later he wanders back outside so I can grab a shower and get ready for work. We've agreed a few things we can both live with, _literally_ in his case and figuratively in mine. Eric. Not the world's most sensitive employer apparently. Since no one can be expected to work all day everyday he's also shown me pictures of the other members of his pack who will be helping out, so I won't get duped. It's a bit frightening to be honest, but I really would be Crazy Sookie if I didn't at least pay some mind to the fact that someone like Eric thinks all this is necessary.

I think Alcide and I will get on okay, and not just because he's _very_ easy on the eye. Though I tried to stay out of his mind I did get the impression he's one of those people whose words and actions generally sit with what's going on in his head. That's quite rare I've found over the years. I'm also flattered by his opinion of me and my innocence. So much so that I've not told him yet that I'm not nearly as nice as I look. Likewise I avoided mentioning how I came to be connected to Eric, although is mind was _alive_ with questions about how it could happen to someone like me. Maybe I will talk to him about it, after all it seems like we'll be spending a lot of time together and a semi impartial opinion wouldn't go amiss would it? Besides, I'm nosey and I already have a ton of questions about werewolves and packs.

So, anyway, it's time for reaction number one to my situation. Sam. We've agreed that I'll need to tell him the truth since it won't take him long to realise I've a werewolf following me about. I've no idea how this conversation's going to go and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. We're going to try to keep Tara out of it completely, it might work.

Alcide's following me so he can scout Merlotte's out and get familiar with my friends, colleagues and customers. He's also coming in for dinner, something he's promised he won't always do.

It's early and the parking lot is empty as I exit my car and dodge Alcide's truck as he pulls up beside me with a flourish of gravel.

I make my way straight back to Sam's office, waving at everyone I know as I sweep through. He's on his computer but he looks up as soon as I enter, raising his eyebrow in query as I close the door behind me.

"We need to talk."

"I know, I'm sorry cher. But Eric, you've Eric's blood in you now. I just . . . ." He trails off.

"I was injured Sam, he healed me."

"You've only got injured since you've been hanging out with vampires." He points out with a sigh.

And he's absolutely right.

"About that." I gird my mental loins. "Other vampires know about my disability."

He nods so I rush on.

"And I'm not really safe anymore so I needed to be protected."

He stiffens.

"Eric has um, agreed to do it . . . ."

"Are you crazy?" He practically shouts, leaping to his feet.

"Nice choice of words Sam." I point out quietly.

"Sorry." He mutters, rounding the desk and coming to stand before me. "But, fuck it, Sookie. Eric? Why couldn't Bill protect you, at least he cares about you."

"He asked Eric to do it."

"What?"

Yes. That's what I said.

"Sookie, Eric isn't the sort of vampire to agree to protect you to help Bill out."

Yes. Also what I said.

"He isn't. He's doing it to protect a valuable asset."

"Just exactly what form does this protection take?" Sam asks after a moment.

"He's claimed me as his in the eyes of other vampires." There, doesn't sound so bad if you can forget we're living in the twenty first century and I'm not a parcel of land on the moon.

"You're his _pet_?" Sam spits the word out like the worst curse, grabbing my upper arms and giving me a shake. "His pet Sookie, how could you agree to that?"

"I am not his pet!" I hurl back. "It's a business deal, pure and simple. He's got no interest in me, it's just so other vampires can't take me away."

"Sookie, I know you're not that fucking stupid . . . ."

I'm saved from responding, it wouldn't have been pretty, when the door crashes open and Alcide barges in.

"Let her go Shifter." He orders.

"Herveaux." Sam growls.

They know each other, why am I not surprised?

The air is thick with testosterone all of a sudden.

"Alcide." I grind out. "Sam and I need to talk. Could you not wait outside?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No. The vampire will have my hide if he harms you."

"The vampire can mind his own beeswax." I huff. "Sam is my friend, he won't hurt me."

"Right." Alcide drawls sarcastically. "Tell me that tomorrow when you're looking at the bruises he's leaving on your arms right now."

Abruptly Sam releases me and absently I rub them to restore the circulation.

"Sookie. I'm sorry. I'm just. _Fuck_." Contrite he steps back, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Sam, Alcide is my new daytime bodyguard." Might as well get the rest of it over with.

Tense, miserable, silence. I hate the fact that I'm getting used to them and I'm about to attempt to fill it with more explanation when a burst of power rips through me like a hurricane, shredding through my every nerve and cell. Overwhelmed I stagger forward, crashing into Sam's chest. He grabs me automatically, keeping me from falling.

"_Sookie_?"

Blindly I push myself away. Twisting and accidently barrelling into Alcide, who closes his arms around me like a vice.

The Eric light. It's everywhere. My nightmare . . . .


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 12 Revelation**

**SPOV**

I opened my eyes stretched out on the rug in Sam's office with the pair of them frowning down at me. I felt reasonably okay considering just a few seconds before I'd thought I was going to be blown apart into a million tiny untraceable pieces, but I could still feel the residue of it on me, like the after effects of a static shock. Shivery and weak I let Sam help me into a chair and I put my head between my knees to see if I could make the room stop spinning. It sort of worked, after a minute or two.

I think I managed to convince Sam I fainted, there's been so much going on it would hardly have been surprising. He was immediately contrite. I know he's as worried about me as I am but it stung a bit that he'd think I'd let me get into this mess if there'd been a better choice. I don't want to run away to faery forever, no matter how nice it sounds, and I don't want to wake up one morning to find myself the helpless prisoner of some vampire. I also can't help feeling a bit disappointed in him. Like Bill he obviously knew more about what I was potentially walking into than I did, yet like Bill the best he could do to stop me was spout vague warnings. I can't blame either of them entirely I guess, I should have paid more attention. Use my brain Niall said. I can't help what's already happened but I need to get smarter if I don't want it to get worse.

Anyway. Sam sent me home with another week off and a promise to drop by for lunch and a proper talk. Alcide ushered me out the back door and followed me home, all the way up the back steps and into the kitchen, where he took up residence on a chair with his arms folded across his chest. He isn't buying the fainting excuse, nor apparently, is he leaving.

Fine. I make us both an iced tea and then sit down opposite him.

I think it was Eric waking up. And that bothers me. I now know why I couldn't find the Eric light when I got up earlier. It isn't confined or concentrated in a single space anymore. It's everywhere, diffused through me, like his blood I presume. My pre-nightmare smugness has been obliterated. Last night I was in control, tonight I have no idea which one of us is. He couldn't feel me at all unless I let him, so how was it he was able to blast into me earlier without any warning or resistance on my part? And how did it stop? Did I push him out or did he pull back when he realised? Was it deliberate?

Maybe the bond wasn't complete when we played around with it last night?

I really need to work out what's changed but I'm hesitant, I don't want him to know what I'm doing, or if I still have any control over it. What if he's waiting for me to slip up? What exactly will happen if it still isn't a true bond and he finds out? Maybe he won't care, in the terms of the business deal we'll still both be getting what we want. He might believe it's simply because of my telepathy but on the other hand he might be suspicious that I'm not everything I appear to be. What happens if he finds out I'm a fairy? What if he already knows, he's old, maybe he's tasted fairy blood before?

I sigh and Alcide raises an eyebrow but I ignore him.

When I don't think things through, I _really_ don't think things through.

I could just leave things be, wait and see what happens but that doesn't seem very sensible. The something that happens could be sudden and would possibly be bad.

I sink inside myself. The Eric light is pulsing gently, in time with my heartbeats I realise, vaguely nauseated by the intimacy of it. Can he feel that, that's just, ugh . . . .

I can't feel him. Like last night other than the presence of his light there's nothing. No connection. It's a little bit like the afterglow on your eyelids of looking too near the sun. An illuminated shadow of what was there before. Now there's nothing specific to focus on I wonder if I can still open it? Should I?

No, I don't want to be rushing into anything else right now. It can wait, for a while. It's not like there isn't a bunch of other stuff to worry about. Niall said he couldn't control me, I can trust in that for a while.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Vampire." Alcide says quietly, unfolding himself to his full height, scenting the air like a bloodhound.

"It happens a lot round here." I sigh again as I make my way to the door. "You'll get used to it."

"Bill."

"Sookie."

Bill eyes Alcide, who has come to stand behind me, with what I can only describe as jealousy peeking through his customary cool. I can almost see the neon sign flashing over his dark head. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

As much as I don't want to bother with him right now, Bill and I have a lot to discuss.

"Come in Bill. Alcide was just leaving."

"You sure?" Alcide asks, though he clearly knows who Bill is and doesn't seem concerned by his presence.

"I'm sure. Some things really _are_ private." And I offer him an apologetic smile.

Taking the hint he tips an imaginary hat to me and saunters out, shouldering Bill lightly on the way.

Bill hisses. Alcide chuckles. I roll my eyes.

Bill follows me back to the kitchen and I heat him a true blood automatically, leaning against the counter to watch him drink it.

"You have blood bonded with Eric." He says eventually.

"Yes. It was your idea, or so I'm told."

"It is not what I intended to happen." He says quietly, dropping his eyes.

"Bill, there's something going on here I don't understand and since it affects me I feel like I've a right to an explanation."

"I cannot."

"Can you at least look at me when you're letting me down?" I ask in exasperation.

His eyes meet mine, the puppy dog ones. I've never been one for puppies, I prefer kittens.

"You keep telling me you're sorry. You keep telling me you're trying to keep me safe. You keep telling me you love me. But I'm not feeling any of it right now Bill."

Tense, miserable, silence. Again.

"I do love you." He says sadly. "But you do not love me, do you?"

Oh, ah.

"It is very hard to love someone who's hiding things from you." I hedge.

"I can still feel you." He reminds me with a twisted smile.

"Good." I snap. "Then perhaps you can feel how desperately I want you to tell me the truth."

"I wish I could. Sookie, perhaps if you asked me the correct questions?"

Jesus, what is this, a game show?

"Alright. Why didn't you tell me about blood bonds?"

"I was forbidden."

"By who?"

"I cannot tell you that."

"Why didn't you bond with me if you loved me?"

"I do love you. And I was forbidden."

I'm guessing he's not going to tell me who by either.

"Why?"

"Because that might have prevented another vampire bonding with you."

"To control me?"

"Yes."

"Why would a vampire want to control me?"

"You are a valuable asset and an extremely desirable 'companion' to vampires." He smiles slightly. "And you are very strong and very stubborn. And vampires always like to be in control."

A horrible thought occurs to me.

"Did you really come back to Bon Temps to mainstream and live in your old house?"

"No."

Oh.

"Were you sent?"

"Yes."

Oh.

"For me?"

"Yes."

On wobbly legs I drag out a chair and lower myself into it.

"Can you tell me who by or why?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I am bound by oath and blood."

Okay, I'm not happy about any of that but we'll park it for now.

"_Did_ you ask Eric to protect me?"

"Yes."

"Why, if you didn't intend for him to actually do it?"

"You are in great danger."

"From who?"

"I cannot tell you that."

The broken record.

"So you asked him to protect me but you weren't expecting him to actually do it, to bond with me?"

"No. I was hoping he would immediately surrender you to the Queen. She _would_ be able to protect you, at least for a while."

"Why would he do that, hand me over?"

He shifts uncomfortably.

"He would have handed both of us over, I admitted to treason."

"Treason?"

A nod.

"But he didn't do that?"

A shake of the head.

"Why not?"

"He has always desired your talent, your blood and your body. I may have misjudged how far he would go to obtain them."

He sounds like he's talking about a pair of new trainers or something. And I can feel a headache coming on.

"He is very strong and very powerful." Bill continues. "In any other circumstances he probably could protect you but not these. If you were claimed by the Queen the others would not risk a war in order to get you."

"What others?"

"I cannot tell you that."

What am I all of a sudden, Helen of Troy? I drop my head into my hands.

"I wish I could tell you everything." Bill sighs. "Even though you will hate me for it."

"No offence Bill, but I'm not liking you a whole lot already." I mutter, refusing to look at him.

More silence.

"Are Eric and I in immediate danger?"

"I do not know. If they realise he has a claim on you? It might make them act quickly. It was one of the reasons I was so dismayed that you had taken his blood. Now, if they know he has blood bonded to you . . . ."

His words trail off.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

He's quiet for so long I don't think he's going to answer but then he starts speaking.

"At first I was doing my duty, I had no desire to tell you. You were just a human I had been sent to procure.

Then I began to realise how special you were. Of course I knew the moment I met you that you were beautiful beyond compare, but it was a while before I could see your inner beauty, your bravery and loyalty. After being dead for so long, the life in you, it permeated me and made me feel whole. I came to love you very quickly. I hope you can believe that.

And then I was afraid. My oath bound me. My blood bound me. It was impossible for me, and still is, to tell you the truth. I tried and have been trying everything I could to keep you safe, to keep you with me, but I was constrained because I was selfish, I wouldn't risk the feelings for me I could feel growing inside you.

Sookie, if I had simply kidnapped you and taken you to the Queen weeks ago, you would be safe now. You would hate me. But you would be safe. I can never explain to you how much I regret my cowardice."

He will hurt you, Niall said. Master of the understatement.

With far more strength than I knew I possessed I lift my head to look at him again. Annoyed that I still find him attractive. Annoyed that I almost, but not quite, feel sorry for him. Annoyed that I can almost, but not quite, see the position he's in. But mainly just sad, tired and the obligatory scared.

"I will keep looking for a way to protect you and I will keep looking until my true death." He vows, getting to his feet.

"You can tell me the rest of it. You can help me stop it." I plead.

"No, Sookie, I cannot. I wish I could make you understand why. They would not have attacked the Queen. They _will_ attack him. They will kill him and they will take _you_ and there is probably nothing I can do to stop it now."

And before I can throw him out he turns and walks away. My arms give out and I let my head crash lightly onto the table top. So much of my life has revolved around this table, literally. And the lives of the Stackhouses before me, so many tales it could tell if it could only talk. So many I'd like to hear after the last few weeks. Did my Gran sit here with Fintan, discussing how they'd deceive my grandfather? Did it bear witness to the repercussions? Maybe my mom sat here and revealed to Gran why she was afraid of and hated her own daughter? Gran and Uncle Bartlett were sitting here the day she threw him out of the house and our lives. So much harm from secrets and deceptions. Suddenly it feels like a miasma covering the whole house, and me.

I hate the fact that I'm crying. Great heaving sobs that are threatening to tear me inside out. How does that help? Who does that help?

Maybe I do need a week off.

But I can't afford one. Despite my fear for me I feel curiously bad for Eric. Greedy he may have been but he's put himself out there to protect me and according to Bill signed his own death warrant in the process. If I weren't going to fight for me, and I will as soon as I know what it is I'm fighting, I at least owe him the heads up on the fact that he's in the firing line. No matter how pissed he's going to be.

I need to see him and quick. But I don't know where to start, he's everywhere inside me like glowing cotton candy, adhering to my every cell. Maybe I can gather it up into something I can work with? In no time at all I've amassed a huge, if imaginary, ball of it, fighting its desire to pull back from me and stick itself to whatever it can, but I hold it tight and allow myself to take out some of my frustration on it. I even use my mental teeth . . . .


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 13 The Corner of My Eye**

**EPOV**

I have formed my first blood bond.

Against my will and against my every instinct.

And I have thrown my net out wide, looking for anything and everything that will free me from this unnatural burden. I know the Queen will do very little to help me, she will simply rely on my centuries of skill to keep the telepath alive, no matter what the cost to me and my existence. Money she will pledge, but her practical support? Not unless it is called on in a dire situation. She will quickly forget this blade hanging over her head as she does every other. How she has survived as a monarch so long would be a mystery if it were not for me. I am the reason. Fear of me is all that stays another monarch's hand. And they do not just fear me for my age and strength, not even the ones who outrank me in such ways.

Who is it then that was confident enough to place the Queen and I in this position. To even garner the support of my Maker, of Godric.

His loss is a deep chasm in me I am unlikely to ever fill.

I would have sought his council on this situation but I have no council now but my own and everything I have learnt.

I have learnt to survive. And I have mostly avoided any and every situation that would make that difficult. And those situations I could not avoid I have controlled and turned to my advantage, be it by strength or cunning. I will not give up hope that the same cannot be said of this one.

I was pleased to discover that the bond I did not want would impact on me so little, but also intrigued. I have never submitted to it before but like every well raised vampire I have a good knowledge of what it entails. Not being able to access my once bonded without her permission is definitely other than anticipated. And interestingly, though she is a telepath with strong mental, though untapped, powers, the bond is blood magic, it should not be circumvented in any way. And never has been to my current knowledge. This is also something I will need to investigate although I accept that it is likely to be a result of the fact that she is not actually human. Though she smells it and tastes it. Her blood was sweet, sweeter than any I have ever tasted. And I can taste it still as I prepare for my rest. Exquisite.

Damn her. Vampire Bait.

Though I had wanted her since I had first laid eyes on her I was loathe to touch her this night. I had to force myself over to the couch and even then I would have gladly welcomed any interruption that could have prevented her joining me. Exchanging blood with her was necessary to ensure others would accept that she is my property, a Sheriff such as I does not _play_ at it like Compton, but if I could have achieved it by using a cup and a knife I would have done so. Perhaps I would have been less reluctant if I had not already known the warmth and softness of her body against mine, the arousal of her lush scent filling my head, the glorious agony of her hot mouth pulling my blood from me.

The blood exchange was excruciating torture. I have never wanted to be buried inside a woman more than I did Sookie at that moment. I am painfully hard just with the memory of it.

I had thought she was sent to destroy me, this perfect woman. Now that I know the truth of it I still cannot fathom the why. Or the who.

I have many enemies. Many of them as patient as I am. But one who knows me well enough to use her? Only Godric and Pam. I will not believe it of either. I cannot. If it were Pam who desired such and end for me I would know. And if it were Godric?

The mere concept threatens to rob me of unnecessary breath as the day begins to pull me under.

I cannot sense her, just my blood in her, roughly where I would expect her to be, in Bon Temps. I am a little more aware of it than I would like but it is not impossible to ignore. Of her well-being, thoughts and emotions I can feel nothing. And I am cognizant that, despite my aversion, if she is truly my enemy then this is not a good thing . . . .

…..

I do not wake in the traditional sense of the term. One moment and I am dead and the next I am not. It is always so.

So to wake to a blinding explosion of light and find my body arching off the bed, my mouth frozen into a silent scream, was disconcerting to say the least.

Other than that the only thing that was different was the Bon Temps blip of the non-human.

I can do the math and so I did not start my night in a good mood.

And the three Fangbangers I had in my office at Fangtasia did not improve it much.

I was left, wanting . . . .

And lacking a distraction. Area 5 is quiet at the moment. Something I usually enjoy. It gives me a chance to devote energy to other parts of my life than simply vampire politics and the attendant bullshit. Though I have grown to enjoy it I use it primarily as a means to keep me and mine alive and in possession of all their requisite body parts.

The blood traitor Eddie was the last excitement in my Area. And he proved woefully easy to catch and punish. It is not that I do not like a little trouble, it keeps me on my toes, keeps the blood flowing so to speak, but the situation with the non-human could very well turn out to be more than a little trouble. In addition to the whys and wherefores I must consider the practicalities. If she is to be protected then I must assume that whoever has done this knows what from and there is a very real danger. And danger to her is now danger to me and mine.

Intolerable the Queen called it.

I have Thalia following the non-human during the hours of darkness. She is one of the oldest and strongest vampires I know and in theory more than adequate to the task, but like me, she would do a better job if she knew what we were guarding the non-human from. She abhors humans and if she has an opinion on me bonding with one she has wisely decided to keep it to herself. I have great esteem for Thalia, who was a nestmate of Godric's at a time before I was made, and I do not like needlessly exposing her to risk.

Then there is Pam. Out of simple respect I informed her that I would be bonding with the non-human, she was surprised and amused. Pam has kept many pets over the years, they entertain her and see to her every need, she is lazy my child. She could see the sense in claiming such a valuable asset and tasty morsel, as she describes the non-human, and she accepted without question that the Queen had decided to let me keep the telepath rather than take on the responsibility herself. After all an asset of mine is by extension an asset of the Queen and I could not refuse a request for her services.

It galls me however that I am being forced to keep secrets from Pam, that is not our way, and it is yet another reason why the non-human's days are numbered. Just as soon as I am free of the noose that has been placed around my neck. A cruel smile curls onto my lips as I allow myself a few minutes to imagine all the ways I will enjoy bringing about the non-human's eventual demise. It is purely imagination of course, I do not brutalise women, but I will enjoy draining her dry of her sweet blood and every single one of her secrets. Very much. It is good to have goals.

Something I have never felt before, but with an echo of a Maker's call, roars through me, snapping me to my feet before I can attempt to contain it.

The vermin cower back as fury pours over me in hot slow waves, like lava.

Apparently the non-human is seeking my attention.

_Intolerable_. But since our lives are, for the time being, inextricably linked, I cannot risk ignoring her. She will pay for this however, and pay dearly.

"Pam."

"Master." She is at my side in an instant, probably already on her way when she felt my rage.

"I must leave."

"Do I need to be concerned?"

"No. I am still learning my new human, she appears to be in difficulty."

Pam actually smirks. "Master you will soon get the hang of it. Even though you have picked one who will probably always be in one difficulty or another."

"Pam." I warn.

"Enjoy it Master. They are always incredibly grateful if they think you have saved them from something."

I bite back a retort. Better for now that she believes a part of my interest in the non-human is for the pleasures of the flesh.

In the back lot I look around to ensure I am unobserved and take to the skies. Not every vampire is gifted but I have the power of flight. Sophie Anne inspires loyalty in her progeny, they never leave her. One of my old nestmates had limited power of telekinesis. Allegedly The King of Luxemburg can glamour whole crowds and The King of Singapore can ingest human food. Our gifts are random at best. Pam can spend money, I do not agree with her that this is a gift.

It does not take long to reach her decrepit farmhouse in the outskirts of Bon Temps. Thalia is waiting for me at the end of the pockmarked driveway, the main reason why my Corvette will never be coming here.

"Report."

"Master. Your woman." I wince inwardly. "Returned from work early with brown dog."

Thalia can speak any language she learns like a native but perversely insists on mangling whichever one is required.

"Compton came. Did not hear speech. He left. It leaked, _nosily_. It still leaks. Is waiting for Master on steps."

I incline my head and she blurs away into the trees, sword as tall as she is strapped securely to her back.

Indeed it is leaking I can see as I approach, fury not abated by the sight.

Her blue eyes are huge and red rimmed. Her smooth cheeks stained by dried tear tracks. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and her arms are wrapped tightly around them. Pathetic.

I raise my eyebrow as I stop a few feet in front of her.

"Bill was here."

"I know."

"You have to find him."

"I am not responsible for organising your romantic life." I observe coldly.

"Romance has got nothing to do with it." She snaps, lifting her chin defiantly. I like it when she does that. It shows spirit. "He said you were going to be attacked."

I blink in surprise. Again. Already trying to compute the trap.

"You will tell me everything." I order.

"Yes _sir_." She growls sarcastically, climbing to her feet and heading inside, tossing my invitation to enter over her shoulder like a bone to a dog.

Deliberately I wait, allowing her several steps inside the house before I surge up behind her, eliciting a small scream of fear.

"Do you have to do that?" She huffs, recovering quickly.

"You will tell me everything." I repeat.

"Yes _Eric_ I will tell you _everything_." She mimics.

And she does as we regard each other warily across her kitchen table.

Compton is still being economical with the truth it seems but at least one of my suspicions has been confirmed. He _expected_ me to go to the Queen, _wanted_ it even though the consequences for him could have been very severe. Because he thinks whoever else is after the non-human would not risk starting a war by attacking Sophie Anne. But someone else, someone who knew Godric, has already intervened and insisted she be placed under _my_ protection.

Why?

Unfortunately there are many possible answers to that question. None of them good for me, although it does not sound like an attack is imminent.

An oath. His mission from the Queen to procure the non-human.

Blood. His Maker? A Maker's command would ensure he could not reveal information and if that is the case he has been resourceful in finding a way round it. But why? I still do not buy affection for this woman as a reason, despite evidence to the contrary.

If it is a Maker's command torturing him will do nothing but confirm it. But if he is playing another game, possibly it will prove beneficial. The Queen will not object, under the circumstances. And I will certainly enjoy it.

I stand.

"What will you do?" She asks.

"Find Compton, as you instructed me."

"And then?" There is a trace of nervousness in her voice. For an erstwhile lover, or an accomplice?

No matter.

"I will deal with it."

"I don't think this is his fault." She murmurs.

"And?"

"Don't hurt him, _please_."

"Do you think he will tell me the truth otherwise when he would not tell you?"

She shakes her head.

"Then what would you have me do?" I ask, curious about her response.

"I don't want you to die because of me." She whispers, drawing another unwarranted blink from me. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 14 A Whole Lot of Nothing**

**SPOV**

Life is a strange thing. These have been the most intense times of my life. Jason accused of murder, me not a human, Gran's slaughter. Beaten, again, and almost raped to throw something different into the mix. Bonded to a vampire. The end of my first and possibly last romantic relationship. A cryptic message of doom. And then nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I was braced for impact. Loins were girded. Peaces were made, fences mended. Affairs, such as they were, were put in order.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Don't get me wrong, I'm pleased I'm not dead, enslaved, or whatever the hell else I imagined was on the cards. But the sudden outbreak of _nothing_ hasn't exactly been great either, lots of time to think.

Gran is constantly on my mind and I just don't seem to be able to shake off the feeling of loss. She'd be appalled that a Stackhouse is being so drippy but I can't seem to help it. I made her miserable and I got her killed. And I feel even guiltier about it because I'm still a little mad at her too. Niall wasn't able to tell me much about her relationship with Fintan, since his son kept the whole thing a secret, and I _hate_ that I'm never going to get the answers I want. I keep thinking about it, trying to imagine it, desperate to put some kind of acceptable spin on Gran's behaviour, but I can't do it without her. I always end up back at the start, how bitterly disappointed she'd have been in me if I'd done something so dishonest. Her absence leaves a big hole in my life yet apparently I never knew her at all, how does that work?

Being a fairy. It really doesn't mean much to me to be honest. I have a Great Grandfather, I like him and I'm certainly coming to appreciate his infrequent participation in my life, just his presence fills me with warmth, chasing all my cares into the recesses of my mind. Problem is they come back as soon as he's gone. He gave me a cell number I can contact him on if I need him and though part of me longs to, the stubborn part is insisting that I can get through this on my own. He's already given me more information about myself and the world I'm suddenly part of than anyone else and though I still have a cornucopia of questions it feels wrong somehow, when I've only just met him, to be bothering him with every little thing. Bill's threat might not be little but how do I know? Besides I bonded myself to poor Eric so he could protect me and he's confident that he is so it might be a bad move to involve the powerful relative at this point, maybe I should keep him as the ace up my sleeve. Oh god, listen to me, what do I sound like? Niall is the Great Grandfather I didn't know I had, not a genie in a bottle to do my bidding.

There's work. I lasted two days of my extra week off before I called Sam and begged him to let me come back. He and I have talked out our differences and reached an accord. Or something like that, he wasn't at all happy but as time goes on and I don't call off work to tell him some vampire's got me chained up in his secret lair he's started to relax. We both have. I told him pretty much everything, minus the fairy parts, he'll probably stake Bill if he sets eyes on him again but other than that we're good. And it's just work again. Waiting tables, slinging beers and trying to stay out of everyone's heads. Funny how I'm not enjoying it so much any more.

I've seen Tara at work but nothing more. She doesn't seem to have noticed the changes in my life and I'm equal parts grateful and resentful. She'd freak. But it would be nice to be able to confide in my best friend. I'm telling myself that I'm protecting her by keeping her out of these new developments, but an unworthy part of me is just longing for her to realise how much my life has changed and offer me comfort.

I've seen Jason all of once in the last couple of weeks and he's not yet bothered to introduce me to his girlfriend. Of course I know who she is, I went to school with her. She seems okay and he seems happy, leastways he does when he comes into Merlotte's or I sneak into Hoyt's mind to make sure he's okay. I'm a little hurt if I'm being honest, he and I have never had the closest of relationships but nevertheless we used to see each other fairly often, and I feel like I've been dropped like a hot brick. But then Gran was usually the catalyst for bringing us together and I am hiding a whole bunch of stuff from him, including family we didn't know we had.

Then there's Eric. I have barely seen him or spoken to him since the night of Bill's last visit. But my fears that he'd abruptly seize control of my life have been unfounded. Apart from the debacle the first night he woke up, I haven't told him what happened because we're not exactly on friendly terms, and besides I've a suspicion he'll just laugh at the naïve little 'human' who didn't ask enough questions. Since nothing else seems to have changed in our bond after that night I've taken the coward's way out and decided to wait until I can ask Niall.

I have done a couple of mind reading jobs for Eric in Shreveport, only one of which he was there for. Pam's been my 'boss' for the rest of them.

I've also been present for one vampire 'meet and greet' at Fangtasia. And I was more than happy to keep my mouth shut as per Eric's orders and be seen and not heard. If nothing else it served to reinforce my decision, oh ha ha, to 'belong' to Eric. I was much admired and the disgusting _sharing_ thing came up. The message that Eric does not _share_ was received loud and clear and I felt a bit like an antique doll, look, admire, but do _not_ touch.

Cautiously pleased is how you could describe my reaction to all that for now.

Though each time I do see him his reaction to me is becoming frostier and frostier. So perhaps it's no bad thing it isn't very often, a couple more meetings and his ice blue eyes will probably freeze me in my tracks like a popsicle.

As a way of avoiding my other problems I have wondered why but I can't come up with anything, not even if I cross reference the inevitable stuff I've picked out of other people's heads over the years. I can understand why he wasn't comfortable with me seeing his pain at what happened with Godric, vampires are intensely private and that's not even allowing for a general 'man' type response to a situation like that, to having allowed me to comfort him, however briefly. But I really don't get the rest of it. He offered me his protection because it served his purposes, I suspect Bill was right about that, but it seems to be making him resent me for some reason. Or I could be over analysing it. Bill also told me Eric was cold and calculating. Maybe his behaviour now is how he'd normally treat a human and his playful advances and flashes of humour before were part of the effort of prising an asset away from another vampire? Somehow that wouldn't surprise me and it's not like I was ever going to _yield_, boy could he imbue that word with sexiness, to him anyway. I miss it though, the old Eric, even though it used to upset Bill, it was good for the ego.

Pam's been teaching me more about vampires, coaching me at Eric's behest, on the art of being _his_ human. There was some confusion and much awkwardness initially since he's tried, thankfully, none of the activities she seems to enjoy with hers. This seemed to surprise the hell out of her but she didn't tell me why and I didn't ask. She has an extremely dry sense of humour and at times is almost fun to be around. Which is just as well as her coaching sessions have been frequent in the interests of carrying out her other instruction from Eric to, and I quote, 'make sure I do not cause her Master any trouble'. As apparently are her nightly calls at ten to check up on me. I guess it's kinda sad that I look forward to them.

I have Alcide in my life too. I gave him a key a while back, he might not have minded pacing my porch but it made me feel bad, this way at least he can get himself a coffee and some breakfast while I wallow in bed. I count him as a friend now and like Sam I've told him almost everything. In return he's told me about himself, the pack he belongs to and his own impressions of the supernatural world he belongs to. Trouble is I'm starting to quite a bit more than like him, but though I know he has the same interest in me he's clearly got no intention in doing anything about it. And I'm not surprised, we get on well but there's a strangeness to our friendship that's probably been brought about by how it came into being, namely the big black cloud with Eric's face in it. Alcide hides his feelings well but I know he's afraid of Eric.

I don't see him every day, the poor man's got a life of his own he's trying to lead and he's been very good about not cramping mine, but still I bet I see him more often than I see most people. Despite the sometimes embarrassing, though welcome, lack of anything he needs to be guarding me from.

Which brings me neatly into the whole sorry mess of my love life, what an enduring joke that's turned out to be.

Though I was resigned to not having one I'd always hoped, vaguely, and for a brief golden moment of time it happened. I almost fell in love with Bill, it was so close. And I was sorry it didn't work out. But that was before. Before I found out he'd been lying to me from the start. Using me, manipulating me. I feel _dirty_. How much worse would it have been if Niall hadn't showed up when he did? Or if Bill had said 'Hey Sookie, come live with me in New Orleans, there's someone I know who really wants to meet you'? Lovely how it was Eric, of all people, who filled in that blank for me. I don't just feel dirty, I feel stupid. And I feel a hurt I wasn't expecting considering I never actually went all the way and fell in love with him. It would have been nice to work my issues out with him, okay, yell at him and tell him what I thought of him, but I didn't get the chance, he delivered his warning of doom for Eric and me and then he left.

Eric went after him as soon as I'd filled him in. But he didn't find him. Bill had disappeared as effectively as Niall does. When the furious Viking strode out of my kitchen I'd been afraid for Bill, had almost regretted calling Eric but when he came back, just before dawn and confessed he'd lost him I wasn't so soft hearted. So help me I was _sorry_.

Because I'm afraid, despite the whole lot of nothing going on, that what he said will come true.

**NPOV**

I am alone in the Audience Hall. Left for once to gaze into the bowl without a gaggle of nosey fae slavering over every detail I see fit to reveal. I gather some great feast is being prepared elsewhere in the palace. Perhaps there will be a roast? I can but hope. I believe it is for some form of celebration. A birthday perhaps? Possibly even mine, it rings a vague and distant bell and there _were_ new robes in my chambers when I rose this morning. Oh well. I am sure someone will tell me if I am supposed to do something, they usually do.

As a last task before my appointment with the Royal Consorts, a fairy cannot live by bread alone, I tune in on my little ray of sunshine.

I could so easily make the world right for her. I wish to. But that does not really help her. We must all learn and grow, especially one with her potential. Life can offer the harshest of lessons, who am I to take those opportunities away? How would that ultimately help her? It would not.

There is still so much she has not asked and I have not told her. Do I feel guilty? As her kin yes. As an old and therefore experienced man? No. The best lessons I have learned I have learned the hard way. She has enough of my blood to prosper by the same method. I will not let any lasting harm befall her. And if she comes to hate me in the process I will deal with it. It will not be the first time nor probably the last. With the exception of her Grandfather, my beloved Fintan, my children are all complacently secure in their positions. Most of them able to largely ignore the real dangers they face, that I protect them from. In this I have come to realise I have failed them.

I made sure they learnt to fight. Use their magic. But never to really understand why it would be necessary. You have to know what you are fighting for to be successful. Just as I did. As she will. He does.

I am pleased she was brave enough to bind herself to him and he did not have to force her. Though I want her to learn, I do not wish for her to suffer unnecessarily.

Do I hope? No. I cannot see the future in my bowl. Only the now and the past. It is often enough, with my years of experience, to prophesize with reasonable accuracy. He is as oblivious as she. Only the Stars can be certain. Maybe this time? If the Stars will it. She has eluded him for so long. Perhaps her soul knows something I do not. Nevertheless I have done the best I can for now. There are many other matters that claim my attention and I cannot abdicate my responsibilities for only one person.

Fates aside he is strong enough to protect her and his love of his own life will ensure his best endeavours even his if his love of Godric does not. At least for now.

I will miss Godric. Even though I appreciate why he would want to free his soul to start again. And especially as I know my involving him, convincing him, to commit his beloved child to the defence of Sookie was part of the catalyst.

I wish I could do the same. But the time is not yet right. It is not ego. But without me much would crumble.

Eric was Godric's life's work.

Defending my people is mine.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 15 Yellow Brick Rhodes**

**SPOV**

"Rhodes." Pam drawls over the phone.

"As in they all lead to Rome?" I quip back.

"Very funny." How does she manage to sound so bored all the time? "We have a week to prepare, as you very well know, we must collaborate on your wardrobe."

I sigh.

"It is expensed." She reminds me. "As per your contract with Eric."

"Pam, I've still got all my suits and things from Dallas, what else could I possibly need?"

"You will be expected to attend certain functions with Eric, as his human, in addition to your duties as his and Her Majesty's asset."

"I bet he's looking forward to that." I mutter.

"I am sure he is. You will look stupendous and other vampire will be reminded of his superiority over them in all ways."

Go Pam. The Eric Northman Fan Club.

"Fine. No leather. No chains."

She laughs. Dryly. "Do not worry Sookie, I will ensure you are a credit to him in every possible way. Though you would look very fetching in leather and chains."

I bite back a laugh. Pam's taken up the sexual innuendo where Eric left off. She's got even less chance, I don't swing that way, but it's flattering nevertheless.

"When?"

"I will collect you tomorrow, an hour after first dark. You will trust me. I know how to make you look good."

"Are you saying I don't look good already?" I demand in mock offence.

"Good enough to eat." She responds, ending the call abruptly, as is her way.

Still smiling I put the receiver down and wander back to my dinner in the kitchen.

I've been looking forward to this Rhodes thing to be honest, a break from the monotony and my miserable thoughts. It's crazy, further exposure to vampires is probably the last thing I need, after all my life is safe and drama free right now, just how I always said I wanted it.

Sam said as much when I booked my week off but instead of making me feel nervous it just boosted my desire to go. Stubborn and stupid go hand in hand it seems . . . .

…..

Shopping was fun and not quite what I was expecting. Pam was known everywhere we went, not feared exactly, but treated with a degree of respect bordering on the obsequious. I was so busy trying to be polite and not laugh at all the fawning I lost track of how much money we were spending. I don't care how rich Eric is, he's going to have a fit when he gets the tab.

I properly lost control of her during the underwear phase of our expedition. I don't know how often she thinks we humans soil ourselves but I could pee myself laughing every day for the next month and not need to do the laundry. It's not that I have a problem with co-ordinating my underclothes, but necessity and lack of an appreciative audience have confined my previous lingerie shops to Wal-Mart. It's a crying shame really, I shall feel like a million dollars but no one else will ever know.

The evening dresses on the other hand.

Wow.

Apparently even a Bon Temps waitress can be transformed into a Hollywood siren with copious amounts of cash and the right personal shopper. She had me trying dresses I would have dismissed out of hand as sleazy. And they sure looked it on the hanger, but once on they were anything but, she actually managed to make me look classy, like a real Southern Belle rather than a poor relation wannabe.

…..

We travelled during the day, Alcide and I, the back of the private jet laden with the coffins of Eric, Pam and the two other vampires attending the Summit with us from Louisiana.

We were collected from the airport by a fleet Anubis Air minivans, the vampire movers of choice Alcide informed me. Security was tight. For all their superior strength and speed they're sitting ducks in the day time. That's a vulnerability that must sting and I feel a certain amount of responsibility for them, scanning the minds of the Anubis Air guys for the slightest hint of anything wrong. There's nothing, though they seem to have been on the end of a glamouring or two in their time. Is that why they're so focussed on their task? Does Anubis Air run a mass glamouring programme to ensure the safety of their clients? I'm not sure how to take that. An educational example of enlightened self-interest or the ultimate example of vampire manipulation?

I'm still pondering that when we pull up in front of the Pyramid of Giza Hotel, a masterpiece of tackiness I would never have imagined being built anywhere outside Las Vegas. But it does what it says on the tin, it's a towering triangular edifice of glass and steel, a pharaoh's resting place on steroids. Alcide and I exchange matching grins of amusement as we follow the coffins on gurneys into Reception.

Check-in is well organised chaos, teams of what I now recognise to be Weres marking us all down against myriad lists. Again I wander through the minds present looking for trouble but there are just too many, I can't tell between someone watching a thriller in the rooms upstairs or a potential homicidal maniac planning carnage in the lobby. In self-defence I put my shields back up, better take it one step at a time.

Finally we get our room keys and the hotel staff takes over moving the coffins and our luggage into the elevators. We're all on the same floor. Eric and I. Pam and the other two vampires in our party.

Alcide eyes me curiously as we're shown into my room first but I muster a confident smile. I'll be sleeping while Eric's up and about and vice versa, I have no reason to fear sharing a room with him. Travel rations and entertainment. Appearances to be kept up.

The porters wheel Eric's coffin into a secure side room and deposit my luggage in the main bedroom before withdrawing to take the others to their rooms and with an hour or so to kill before Eric rises I kick off my shoes and curl up on the couch to flick through the itinerary.

A Summit. I can't help being impressed, it sounds important, fancy little old me being a part of it. Well, on the periphery of it anyway. The meetings scheduled all have innocuous titles that nevertheless get me wondering what business will be conducted in them. The social stuff is more obvious and far less interesting . . . .

I yawn. Flying has tired me out, the fear I guess, Alcide's company was nowhere near as comforting as Eric's . . . .

**EPOV**

I survived. I was taking a calculated risk allowing the non-human and I to be left alone together, even though Hotel policy was to secure me alone in my room after check-in.

From the sound of her heartbeats she is asleep somewhere in the suite so I allow myself a leisurely shower before dressing for tonight's introductory drinks party. Of course most of us already know each other but we don't gather together that often and so a great deal of the business of the Summit will probably get done tonight. I can feel a tingle of anticipation at the thought but the sound of the non-human sighing and rolling over dampens it somewhat.

Appearances are everything and I will have to spend a great deal more time with her over the next few days than I would like. I will have to touch her, further the charade that she and I are bonded. Thankfully no one will question my being cold toward her, they will all believe her to be just a human, but they will expect me to favour her and flaunt her. I shall be forced to defend her, such a beautiful and desirable woman. It will be tiresome but it is a responsibility I cannot shirk if the ruse is to be believed.

I am still deeply suspicious of her. I have uncovered nothing of her mysterious benefactor, the one who holds a blade over both my head and the Queen's. Nor anything material on Bill or his Maker, Lorena. It is unpleasant, this sensation of forces gathering against me I cannot see. And with the absence of any other to blame, I blame her.

Deciding against braiding my hair in the traditional way of my people I exit my room, wanting to ensure she is ready and appropriately attired before we head down to the party. I may not have wanted a human but I will not tolerate one making me look bad. Especially not her.

She is curled up on the couch, head tucked into her arms. Her severe grey skirt has ridden up, exposing the top of her stocking on one thigh and a thin strip of the soft tanned skin above it. It calls to me and I long to stroke a finger around it and feel the flesh pebble under my touch. Her scent is as clean and fresh as always, she almost glows in the lamplight.

She is beautiful and alluring, my death.

Yet even with her face partially covered I can see she is tired and drawn. I am aware of no reason for this from Pam's briefings and it irks me that I would even notice.

"Sookie!" Harshly I command her to wake.

"_Eric_?" She sighs, stretching instinctively and rolling onto her back. One arm flung over her head, the other automatically clutching at her blouse which has fallen open to reveal the tantalizing swell of her breast.

"You have a little over an hour to get ready." I snap at her. "We cannot be late. I will wait here."

Despite the fear that spices her blood she actually snarls softly at me as she struggles to gain her feet from the cloying embrace of the couch and smirking I back up to give her room.

She surveys me blearily for a moment before pulling herself together and stomping off to her room.

"Jerk." She mutters under her breath as she slams the door behind her.

Laughing quietly I heat myself a synthetic blood and settle down to wait.

**SPOV**

Introductory drinks. Dress one. A simple black silk sheath, falling to just above the knee, leaving my arms but little else bare. Silver, real silver jewellery, I assume Pam knows what she's doing, a wide necklace slung just below my throat and a matching bracelet on my left wrist. Ludicrously high heels and matching shiny black clutch. Hair twisted into the nape of my neck. Black eyeliner and clear lip gloss.

Even I know I don't look much like a waitress, or a vampire's pet.

Eric looks up as I open the door and his expression, frosty, plummets to arctic.

"Pam assured me this was acceptable." I huff defensively after a moment's uncomfortable silence.

"I did not voice a complaint." He points out, surging to his feet.

You didn't have to, your face said it all.

"Not slutty enough?" I enquire sweetly.

Oh, whoa, shut up Stackhouse. From arctic to drained in one easy mouth off.

"As you are aware there will be certain expectations of us over the next few days." He lectures as he paces. "You will keep your attitude and your feelings to yourself at all times or I will be forced to punish you."

"I know. Pam told me. I am not to embarrass her _Master_." Light sarcasm, appropriate I think.

"For the next few days I am _your_ Master, do not forget it."

Urge to curtsey with flowery sarcasm balanced against the forbidding look on Eric's face.

"Okay." I respond meekly.

"I will not let any harm come to you."

"Okay?" Where did that come from?

"I have been told that Bill will be here this week."

"_What_?!"

"There is nothing wrong with your hearing. You will be safe. It is my responsibility."

"Eric . . . . if there's trouble, I meant what I said . . . . I'm not worth it . . . ."

Whoa. There _is_ a degree of cold below arctic.

"Your spine is required Ms Stackhouse." He growls. "The rest is up to me."

…..

In silence we travel down in the lift.

The new Pam improved me and Mr Frosty, resplendent in his navy pinstripe suit and pale blue silk shirt, his black shoes even shiner than mine. The shirt is just open enough to expose the top planes of his chest, deliberate? Probably. Even I'm fantasising about delving a finger in there, the only other woman in the elevator is chanting in her head to stop from doing it. Ironically because she thinks she'll get in a catfight with me over it.

Despite the tension between Eric and I it's almost enough to make me smirk.

The doors sweep open and I start forward, jumping when Eric's cool hand settles lightly in the small of my back.

"I am your Master." He snarls as we proceed toward the high double doors of the Ballroom. "It should not come as a shock when I touch you."

"Well perhaps we should have practised." I snarl back.

Oh my big mouth. Before I can even blink he envelops me in his well-muscled arms, turning us and trapping me against the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hiss as he rubs himself all over me.

"Marking my territory."

"Couldn't you have done it in private?" I gasp, fruitlessly trying to wriggle away from him.

"Where would the fun have been in that?" He chuckles, old Eric coming out to play for a moment.

"Sheriff Northman?" A professional sounding voice interrupts.

Eric releases me and steps back, once again placing his hand on the small of my back, no jump from me this time, my stupid knees are still too busy shaking from his previous attentions.

"Quinn." Eric's greeting is even, neither pleased nor displeased to be interrupted.

"Are you going in?" The giant Were with arresting purple eyes enquires, flicking a glance from me to the doors.

"In a moment." Eric responds. "We are not yet ready."

. . . . _bimbo . . . ._ floats out of the Were's head as he pulls the doors open dramatically, striding inside.

I'm all for scurrying in behind him, unnoticed, but apparently that doesn't work for Eric and after a count of three we make our own dramatic entrance.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 16 The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly**

**SPOV**

Well, at least it isn't like I'm not used to being stared at.

All eyes, vampire, human and whatever, turn on us as Eric and I enter the room. It doesn't actually go quiet but it sure feels like it for a moment.

"Fuck." Eric growls quietly as he propels me forward.

"Master." Pam is at our side in an instant.

"Do not let her out of your sight." Eric orders her and she nods as he turns his attention to me. "Remember how to behave. Stay out of trouble."

And he's gone, disappearing into the melee.

Pam ushers me toward the long bar down one side of the room, ordering me a gin and tonic.

"I'm sorry you're on Sookie Duty." I apologise, taking a swig of my drink.

"It is no problem." She assures me. "You are almost acceptable for a breather and your presence here is going to enliven proceedings I suspect."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It is for me." She chuckles, turning her attention to the room.

Warm and fuzzy she's not. Although she does look good out of her Fangtasia attire, like some rich man's trophy wife who has stepped out of her designer sweats for the evening.

To relieve the pain already building in my feet, dangerous shoes, I lean back against the bar.

"Do not do that in dress number two." Pam observes idly. "Eric will be picking bits of vampire out of your _décolletage_ all night."

I shudder reflexively, remembering when Eric staked Long Shadow and he disintegrated on top of me. Terrifying and revolting. And possibly a bit extreme considering he was only guilty of stealing from Eric's bar.

"Who are all those people down the end of the bar?" I ask her by way of distraction.

"Donors." She shrugs without looking over at them. "The numbers on their badges correspond with the menu."

"Menu?" I sound as amazed as I feel. "Don't we all taste the same?"

"Not hardly." She sighs, turning her attention briefly to me. "I dimly remember human food being the same. Mostly it was just food but sometimes it was excitingly more interesting. It all depends on the ingredients."

I guess. I eat a lot of salads because they're good for me and I'm not a skinny woman but they don't taste of anything in particular. Now cheesecake, that's something I've got excited about it a time or two.

Wow. I really need to get out more.

I take another slug of my gin, nervous, and as if sensing it Pam starts pointing out vampires, weres and humans, explaining who they all are and how they're connected.

For the most part you can work out who the vampire Kings and Queens are, they exude power and the expectation they'll be obeyed in all things. Most of them rule a single state, like ours, but a few rule sections of larger states or cities. And they marry, not for love like a human would, for power and political influence. The marriages are of set durations. Montana was married to Wyoming, both women, their contract ended a few decades ago but their alliance still stands. Philadelphia and Nevada were married but the Queen of Philadelphia was murdered and Nevada installed his second in command as King. Mississippi and Indiana are getting married at this Summit, according to Pam they actually care about each other. And our Queen, Sophie-Anne, is using this gathering to broker a marriage with the King of Arkansas, Peter something.

But like Stan, who is here and has already nodded to me in greeting, there are a few you wouldn't for one minute consider as royalty. And then there's Eric, who looks more like a ruler than most of the rest of them put together.

Pam continues to point out all the movers and shakers, second in commands, Sheriffs and Lieutenants, with a brief opinion on who can be trusted and who cannot. Not a hard lecture to remember. Eric can be trusted, the rest of them are duplicitous, depraved and self-absorbed in the extreme, she's like a fan girl and I like that she loves him so much, not that I'd dare say so, not after the whole Godric episode. She moves onto foibles, strengths and weaknesses next, again Eric good, most other vampire, bad, and eventually my amusement at her bubbles over into laughter. She sounds like one of the grand old dames of Bon Temps, extolling the virtues of their marriageable male kin, a reality so far removed from the Viking vampire you'd need a telescope to see it. Or another large gin.

"Another?" She enquires eyes my empty glass like she's read my mind.

"Please."

"Here." She thrusts an even bigger drink at me. "I have some business of my own to conduct but I will be watching you, if there is any trouble I will return. Thalia will be watching you too."

"Okay." I shoo her away with my hand. "Go. Mingle."

At the other end of the bar the donors are doing a brisk trade, vampires selecting one and taking them into a side room, returning a few minutes later pink and rosy looking. The donors seem happy enough and I dip into a few of their heads. Saving for a car. Saving for college. Desperate to get bitten. Paying medical bills for an elderly relative. None of them seem to have been glamoured and I get the impression that because the Summit is big news a real effort has been made to ensure everything is above board. None of them seem scared, coerced or remotely molested as they return to the Ballroom. Curiously some are more popular than others and I slide a menu surreptitiously toward me so I can find out why.

The menu lists their diet, ethnic origin and a number of other things that would appear to influence their taste and once again I'm not sure if I'm impressed with the organisation here, or disgusted by it. But, if the guy with the sick Grandmother to care for is grateful he can earn the money he needs this way rather than turning to crime, who am I to judge?

It hasn't escaped my notice that I'm in my own little oasis by the bar. A few of the humans have surmised I'm 'the' telepath and are staying well out of my way. The Weres want nothing to do with a vampire's chew toy and the vampires, though curious, really do seem to be reluctant to approach Eric Northman's human. And to my relief there is no sign of Bill, though my ears are out on stalks waiting to hear his particular brand of southern twang.

I don't know how to feel about the fact he might be here. Angry? Afraid? Relieved? Argh. Not thinking about it.

It seems like a fairly normal drinks party if you can ignore that most of the guests aren't quaffing from a glass and I've never been to one in my entire life.

Further down the bar I spot Eric perusing the 'menu' and chatting idly with a tall dark vampire Pam named earlier as another Louisiana Sheriff. Instantly I'm curious which donor he will choose. One of the more exotic women? But he hands the menu off to the other Sheriff and accepts a bottled blood from the barman, tipping it to his lips as he scans the room, looking for all the world like my brother enjoying a beer with his friends.

It causes an unexpected pang and I have to look away, suddenly fascinated with the lemon slice floating aimlessly in my glass, preoccupied with the knowledge that I don't really belong here or anywhere else for that matter.

"So you're Northman's Telepath?" A voice asks, startling me from my thoughts.

I look up to find a small slim vampire leaning against the bar next to me. Everything about him is small and pinched, even his obviously expensive suit, giving him a sharp and jarring air, like an unattended box knife.

"Um."

He looks me up and down like something he's considering buying.

"I can see the attraction." He muses thoughtfully.

Ick. I might not be able to hear his thoughts but I can feel his _wrongness_ in a way I don't even want to think about . . . .

"Do you taste and fuck as good as you look?" He whispers, leaning well into my personal space.

"Excuse me?" I snap, bristling and stepping away from him.

His hand lashes out in a blur, closing around my, unfortunately, silver free wrist.

"Does he share you?" He enquires, enjoying my sudden fear as he drags me back toward him.

"No!"

"Are you sure?" He purrs, leaning in and taking a long sniff. "Perhaps he hasn't introduced you to an important enough vampire to share with yet?"

"She is sure." A cold voice interrupts and I look up, meeting Eric's hard eyes over the top of the vampire's head.

A cold but satisfied smile breaks out on his pointy face as he releases me. Was he deliberately trying to provoke Eric?

"Really Eric?" He drawls, turning casually to lounge against the bar, arrogantly looking out over the room rather than at Eric. "You wouldn't share such an asset with your Queen's second, an asset she has most strangely and graciously allowed you to keep?"

Eric doesn't react but his hard eyes continue to bore into mine as if this is all somehow my fault.

After an infinitesimal pause he leans slowly down, eyes never leaving mine, until his lips are a few inches from the other vampire's ear. To his credit the Queen's second doesn't flinch, so I do it for him.

"She is beautiful Andre, is she not, _my_ human?" Eric whispers in a deep dark tone, still looking at me, I shiver involuntarily. "Does the sight and scent of her not _literally_ threaten to pull your fangs from your gums?"

Andre blinks but refuses to look Eric in the face and blindly I reach behind me to slide my drink onto the bar top. I've clearly had too much.

"I. Do. Not. Share." Eric continues. "And if you touch her again I _will_ pull your fangs from your gums."

"I am your Superior." Andre asserts and both Eric's and my eyebrow shoot up in perfect synchronisation.

Eric apparently can't bring himself to dignify that with a comment so instead he straightens to his full height, offering me his hand, which I take with alacrity.

He drags me away immediately, oblivious to my ridiculous shoes and inability to keep up with him properly.

"Can you not stay out of trouble for five minutes?" He hisses. "And where is Pam, Thalia?"

"That wasn't my fault." I point out angrily. "And how the hell should I know, human powers of hearing and eyesight, remember?"

Without slackening his pace he hauls me through a side door, dropping my hand abruptly as soon as it closes behind us. We're in a bare stairwell and I shiver because it's cold out here and Mr Frosty is giving me the stink eye.

I glare back at him, annoyed with myself for finding his possessive bullshit with Andre, however fake, sexy. Definitely too much gin.

"Are we going back to the party?" I ask eventually when the silence and the staring have gone on too long.

"No."

"Why not?"

He cocks his head to one side as if he can hear someone approaching and in a heartbeat I'm slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he blurs us up the stairs and back to our suite, dumping me unceremoniously onto the couch.

Immediately I ram my thighs together and hike my dress down as he looms over me. This is how the night started I believe. Expecting him to leave me to my questions and fears I can't hide my surprise when he starts speaking.

"Andre was testing my commitment to my claim on you. He was not the only one who would have tried it and others were watching the outcome with interest."

"I thought the fact we'd bonded meant another vampire couldn't touch me?"

He snorts at my apparent naivety.

"Rules are rules. Certain vampire like to push them. Technically I would be well within my rights to request action against his transgression but it would be considered weak and extremely bad form considering Andre outranks me in this state. He only grabbed your wrist and you are only a _human_."

His emphasis on that last word doesn't escape me, I'm a fairy, does he know? Does anyone else?

"I have already been offered large sums of money for you this evening." He continues.

I gasp in shock. Sadly just not at the appalling idea of being sold like a chattel, but also because I can't see why anyone would want to buy a waitress, _me_.

"And that is even only on the basis that you may, or may not, turn out to be useful as a Telepath. Andre's actions are unlikely to be an isolated event."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise . . . ."

Oh whoa, for a moment I wonder if he's going to spontaneously combust, taking me with him as Steve Newlin intended Godric to do. I don't understand how I keep making him so _angry_.

"How odd." He growls, chilling me to the bone. "I claimed _you_, apparently for my own personal benefit, and _you_ are sorry it might backfire on _me_?"

"I wasn't expecting to be so much trouble, I just wanted to be left alone . . . ." Don't sell me, please don't sell me.

He is silent except for his deep unnecessary breaths. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides. I _so_ don't want to see him lose it.

"What are you not telling me?" He demands, grinding the words out through gritted teeth, strangely more frightening than his fangs because of the self-control he's obviously exerting. "I know you are hiding something from me. It is a foolish tactic that will only get you into more _trouble_ in the long run."

I shake my head in denial, rendered completely mute by the terror icing my veins.

He's on me in the blink of an eye, pinning me painfully to the couch, apparently not caring about the silver bracelet burning his palm.

"Lower your shields." He hisses, in perfect tune with the sizzling of his skin. "Let me in."

No. I can feel him, the Eric light, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Striving for dominance. Angry and afraid.

No. No, no, no . . . .


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 17 Day Release**

**EPOV**

I laid her on her bed when she passed out.

Mildly annoyed with myself. She is not the first person I have caused to faint from terror and I doubt she will be the last and yet I am uncomfortable with it.

She does not appear harmed, her breathing and heart rate are strong and regular.

With nothing else to do I sit in the chair in the corner of her room and watch her sleep. Mulling everything over while my hand slowly heals. I will be having words with Pam over both the dereliction of her duty tonight and her choice to adorn my human in silver.

My _human_.

It is irksome to have had to put Andre in his place but it is not the first time is has been necessary. He is arrogant and ill-disciplined, even Sophie-Anne recognises that about her child.

In truth what is worrying me is that even though I have always known she is Vampire Bait and potentially nothing but trouble for her owner I was unprepared for the reaction she created this night. The sums of money I was offered for her were quite ridiculous. Especially considering I would give her away to a passing Hobo if I could.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair in a human gesture I would never make in front of witnesses.

This charade that she is my human is going to be harder to maintain than I thought. We cannot go back to the party because the others will expect to smell my seed in her, a primitive show of my possession and dominance, and so I have no choice but to let them believe that I am slaking my desires on her in private, something only the most confident of vampire would feel able to do under the circumstances.

Believable then. Of course the fact that it is such a long and apparently enjoyable process that we don't return at all is only going to pique their interest further. For the first time I can remember I have to wonder if the reputation I have carefully crafted over the millennia to protect me and mine is about to start working against me.

This whole situation is untenable. After this Summit Sophie-Anne will have to curb her desire to boast and allow me to slide the non-human out of the limelight. I have already been careful not to use her telepathy too publicly since Dallas and so I need only to deflect attention from it for the next few days, I have a suspicion the non-human will be only too happy to assist me. Perhaps, if I am lucky, even Bill's threat will turn out to be an ephemeral concern.

Unlikely. I can feel the invisible noose tightening around my neck with each breath she takes.

As for her secrets.

Another sigh.

Since I am clearly not going to force them from her I will just have to bide my time.

"Please don't sell me." She whispers, startling me, I had not even realised she had awakened.

She is peering at me through the darkness, just barely making out my form, where as I on the other hand, can see her clearly.

The eyeliner she wore has smudged onto her cheeks and her hair has come partly loose from its constraints, she looks about as well ravaged as the vampire downstairs would expect. Such a shame I can barely bring myself to touch her.

Her soft plea is still hanging in the air, unanswered.

"Why should I not?" I counter, wondering if she will reveal anything when subjected to threats of a less physical nature.

"I thought you said I could be valuable to you." Her voice is quiet, still laced with the fear that overtook her earlier. She recovers quickly though. Whatever she is, she is strong.

"I am already extremely rich and claiming you cost me nothing." A lie, the cost just was not money. "I could turn an incredibly quick profit this week and be free of the burden of owning you."

Her breathing hitches. She definitely does not like that idea.

"Is there anything I can do to be less of a burden?" She asks.

I cannot supress my smile.

"Are you offering your body to me Miss Stackhouse?"

"No!" Her horrified gasp turns that smile into a chuckle. Her innocent act is really very good. Almost believable. "I don't, I mean, oh god, _no_."

It is a good job I do not have a fragile ego.

"That's not what I meant. I can tell you don't like me Eric, I'm not stupid, but I don't understand why I keep making you angry. If there was a way for me not to . . . ." She hesitates, biting her lip. " . . . . would it make a difference?"

"No."

She closes her eyes and slumps back down on the bed. I have seen how proud she is, it must have taken a lot for her to plead with me that way. A tear slides down her cheek and I idly wonder what it will taste like, would it be as exquisite as her blood?

"Why do you want to belong to me so badly Sookie?" I ask, deliberately erasing the rough edge from my voice.

"I don't want to belong to anybody." She admits, keeping her eyes closed. "I am not a possession or a trophy. I am a person. I don't want to be sold around like a video game until I get scratched or broken. I want to live my own life."

Sounds familiar.

"I thought, from our talk, that belonging to you was probably the closest I'd be able to get to it under the circumstances. You've always seemed _honourable_ in your way. Pam says you are."

I manage not to snort. I am about as honourable as I can get away with in order to stay alive.

I am done with this conversation, once again the non-human is giving nothing useful away.

"I will not sell you Sookie."

The words are out of my mouth before I realised I was going to speak and though I _cannot_ sell her I instinctively know it is a mistake to allow her to see any more weakness on my part.

"Do you promise?" She whispers, eyes opening and finding me in the darkness.

I walk away, closing her door behind me without answering, furious with myself.

**SPOV**

I close my eyes again as he leaves, willing myself back to sleep, but even though it's actually quite late it's just not happening.

He scared me tonight. And I feel kind of foolish for being so shocked over it. It's not like I don't already know he's terrifying, haven't already seen it. It's just that it's the first time he's been that way with me, to _me_, despite his obvious displeasure with me recently.

Actually several things scared me. Andre, he would have been unpleasant as a human, but supernaturally fast and strong, and that, _wrong_? I shiver.

Eric, threatening me, practically attacking me? Yeah, he scared me alright. But when he tried to force his way inside my head, force his will on me. _That_ terrified me.

I'm not going to think about why, that _destroys_ all my hopes and dreams, but I'm going to let myself be grateful he couldn't do it. And fuck the consequences. I'd rather be harmed physically than that way, I have my reasons . . . .

He didn't promise he wouldn't sell me. Why would he, he owes me nothing, I should have known any deal I made with him would be too good to be true. Is that how he'll control me? By holding the fact that he can sell me on when and if I become too much trouble for him over my head? It doesn't bear thinking about, better the devil you know and all that, god how I'd hate to belong to a vampire like Andre.

I shiver and though it's not just from cold I hide myself under the bedclothes, careless of the fact I'm still dressed. I used to do this when I was little, imagining a dinosaur prowling the trees outside, that he'd get anyone who was foolish enough to leave even the tiniest bit of skin peeking out of their bedclothes.

If I knew what I was doing to annoy Eric I really would at least try to stop doing it, I _would_. But even so there are limits. I won't ask him about being sold again, not even if he brings it up, I won't give him the satisfaction of thinking he holds any power over me at all. It was a mistake, tonight, to let him see how much this situation I'm in scares me.

Niall would help me, I know, but it isn't right to rely on other people to make your life easier. And both he and I are in agreement that though I could run away from everything it isn't right, and I wouldn't like it. It's comforting to know that he'll help me if he can, though he can't watch me the whole time, he has bigger responsibilities. But I guess that still makes me better off than most people . . . .

A jaw breaking yawn surprises me. But not that much. You can only worry about yourself for so long before it starts to get old . . . .

…..

"Sookie?" Alcide is tapping gently against my door.

"Ungh."

"Good party?" He laughs.

"Ungh, no."

"Want me to order breakfast?"

"Please. Extra bacon."

"Be about twenty minutes."

"K"

Shower. I need to shower. I've slept in my clothes. My dress, my beautiful silk dress.

I sit up, pushing the covers away and looking down at myself. Rumpled I believe would be the polite description.

In the bathroom I regard myself blearily in the mirror.

Ick.

I look like something Kiss would reject.

There's something very sad about stripping away such sexy lingerie simply because you've slept in it.

The shower is hot and I scrub myself frantically, washing away the dregs of last night. Coaxing my brain back into life.

Smart, professional Sookie, I like her, enters the suite to have breakfast with Alcide. Or rather, pick at what he's left, namely the fruit course. I don't know if there was extra bacon and I guess I'll never know.

"We were supposed to be at the 'hosted' breakfast with the other Daywalkers." Alcide observes, leaning back in his chair. "But I guess we missed it."

"Humph."

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, just tired, late night."

_. . . . not from what I heard . . . . damn, hate to think of her that way . . . . can't smell it though . . . ._

I close my eyes for a moment. Of course, it makes perfect sense why Eric wouldn't go back to the party, what's the most obvious way you can remind a Supe a woman is yours?

"Alcide . . . ." I hate to remind him, but I like him. "It's not what you think. Your sense of smell doesn't lie."

"Sookie, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you Cher."

"It's not your fault." I sigh. "You really can't help what you think and I'm sorry I picked it up. My shields are shot."

Silence, not totally uncomfortable.

"What do you want to do today?" He asks finally.

Curl up and die? No, I guess I've already decided against that.

"I need to get out. Where could we go?"

"No clue Cher, how about we suck it and see?"

…..

The city is not much of a tourist attraction and if anyone asks me in a few years I won't be able to tell them much. Grey, high, all the usual shop fronts. I wonder if a vampire owns the dominant coffee chain. It seems likely, a well-oiled mechanism to take your money and shove you out the door again vaguely unsatisfied.

Oh cynical me today.

The city is _packed _however. All sorts of people drawn by the highly publicised Vampire Summit. And though it takes me a while to get my shields just right I can't resist delving into what's going on in some of the minds that have been compelled to come here.

There is support, of the, if it walks and talks it's alive and deserves respect variety. I can sympathise with that, though in truth there aren't many of them. There's a great deal of commercial support and I guess I can understand that, if your livelihood depends on trade you'll take any kind of stimulus for it.

There's a ton of curiosity. Like mine originally. Vampires are strange, exotic and thrilling. Just a little look won't hurt, surely? These are the people I'd quite like to shake and send home to their normal lives. In the grand scheme of things I guess I've been lucky so far, but not as lucky as if I'd never met Bill. How many of these people might accidently stumble over into a world that's every bit as dangerous as they are trying to imagine?

And then there are the haters. Deaders. Fangers. Monsters. The complete opposites of the ones with the respect. These people are too afraid to destroy, just content with their ability to apparently safely spew hate on something they're frightened of and don't understand. Some of their fears might actually be justified but I loathe the fact they don't know that and hate anyway.

Alcide can't read minds but he's on the same page. Probably because he is different too.

"These people are giving me the creeps." He growls as we make our way back to the Hotel.

Some choice words are hurled at us when our destination becomes clear.

"Fuck off." Alcide snarls a few times.

Placards and vitriol are being hurled in our faces.

"WHORE!"

Nice.

"Traitors to God!"

"Satisfiers of Satan!"

"I hope you guys aren't planning to come out of the kennel any time soon." I murmur to Alcide as he edges closer to me.

"I fuckin' hope not." He growls. "This is so much worse in the flesh than it looks on TV. You okay?"

I nod, morbid fascination urging my mind to flow out into the crowd again.

_. . . . wish it was me, he's hot and he ain't even a vamp . . . ._

_. . . . still need to get them in the right place . . . ._

_. . . . deserve to die as much as their godless idols . . . ._

_. . . . better leave soon, my turn to start dinner . . . ._

_. . . . bomb . . . . one well-placed bomb . . . ._

_. . . . Christ I wish they'd all just stay in the hotel till the summit's over, this is insane . . . ._

_. . . . Newlin's gonna cum in his designer pants when this goes down . . . ._

I stumble as I twist around looking for that last voice but both Alcide and the Hotel guard's hands catch me before I can crash to the ground. I try to resist them but they impel me remorselessly up the steps and into the lobby.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 18 Dress Number Two**

**SPOV**

I knew I shouldn't have been looking forward to this trip. _Knew_ it.

Briefly I sink down, submerging myself in the foamy tub.

I told Alcide what I'd heard but we both agreed there wasn't much we could do about it, better to wait and tell Eric, someone who would believe it and probably know what to do about it.

Eric. So not looking forward to seeing him after last night. At least I've got a bit more time to soak and get ready for it since he's got vampire stuff to do before he meets me back here for the Ball at midnight. And if it's anything like last night, minus the drama, I probably won't need to be around him much at all.

I glance across at the clock on the bathroom counter, if I stay in here for another hour he'll be up and gone.

Feeling cowardly I drain some water out of the tub so I can get more hot in, I'll take the wrinkled skin over Eric right now. As soon as his meeting starts I think I'll curl up on the bed and take a nap. Strained night last night, long one ahead of me . . . .

A pounding has me scrabbling back to consciousness, chilled to the bone and so wrinkly my body feels like its occupying a restricted space, the clock says 10pm.

"Sookie." Pam's voice is cut glass. "Are you bathing or drowning? I am more than happy to come in and check."

"Ungh. In the tub."

"Well get out." She commands. "Eric has instructed me to ensure you are ready."

"Two hours Pam." I huff, climbing out of the tub and wrapping myself securely in a towel.

"I am not taking any chances. I am in enough trouble with him after last night."

"Me too." I mutter, yanking the door open.

"What did _you_ do?" She demands, changing conversational direction abruptly like a dog after a frisbee.

It's going to be a long night.

"Nothing."

"What _did_ you do?" She presses.

Offence is the best form of defence. Jason was always spouting that on the subject of football.

"Did he get my note?"

"He did." She smirks, catching on quick.

"And?"

"He was absolutely furious. You know the drill, totally still, totally silent, no fang."

Oh yes. I know that look.

"So what's he doing about it?"

"What needs to be done. You should not worry. You should be focussing on getting ready."

"Sexual revolution passed you by, huh." I drawl.

"Little human. I _was_ the sexual revolution. Now get ready."

Pause.

"Um, Pam, I've been dressing myself since I was two, you can wait in the suite, talk to Alcide or something."

"The dog has gone to perform his own toilette, he will be accompanying you this evening as well as I."

"Then you could watch the television."

"Your human ideals of modesty amuse me."

"Good. Be amused in the other room."

I make with the shooing motions and she saunters out with a smirk.

After I've locked the door behind her I sink down on the end of the bed for a moment, closing my eyes and letting my shields down. The hundred or so voids in and around the building are relatively easy to ignore, like stepping around trees in the local park. The humans are pretty much as expected, excited and nervous about being in close proximity with so many vampires. They fall into two categories, the ones who are used to it and the ones who think this glittering showbiz façade is what life with vampires is always like. Reading weres at a distance like this is pretty much useless, the odd flash but it's mostly snarly and unintelligible, so I focus on the humans. God, I sound like a vampire, people, they're people Stackhouse.

"I cannot hear any sounds of getting ready." Pam's voice cuts through my concentration.

"Shush. Busy."

"Humph."

Their thoughts are mostly banal and uninteresting. With so many minds it's like telepathic channel hopping, how can you ever find what you're looking for unless the thinker's kind enough to scream it at you? People getting ready for the Ball, the hotel staff making sure everything is prepared, someone's being fed on and having a high old time of it, someone taking drugs, someone else watching that terrorist thriller I caught yesterday, someone obsessively arranging flowers on the tables in the Ballroom, someone terrified about making a mistake tonight, someone thinking about the telepath. I zero in on him.

Pretty and blonde, he's grumbling because the _damn hotel is full of pretty blondes_ and he's fairly sure he hasn't seen me yet. His mind wanders to a grainy photo which I realise must have been taken by the CCTV in the hotel in Dallas, I think I was waiting for Hugo at the time. No, he's sure he hasn't seen me yet. Then his mind zooms off to what he's going to do with the money when he gets it and I lose him in the throng.

Frustrated I try looking for him again but it's like my mental control has slipped, the thoughts around me turn into a dull roar and I have to shove my shields back up in self-defence.

Great. Vigorously I towel myself off, desperate to be rid of the chill that's gathered on my skin. Not only is there someone around here somewhere who thinks Steve Newlin is going to happy, which can't be good for the majority of the people in this hotel, but there's someone here specifically looking for me. Somehow I can't imagine anything good coming from his interest.

And neither am I happy about the fact that I'm going to be sensible about it and tell Eric. I'd thought belonging to him would be a formality that would keep another vampire from waltzing off with me against my will and now it's dawning on me that he might actually have to do more than sic Alcide on me for show, in order to keep me safe. No wonder he gets mad, it hardly seems fair even if he was thinking he'd get more out of the deal than I would originally.

Dress number two is backless and strapless, with a long mildly fluted skirt that sweeps the floor as I walk. The pale blue color sets off my eyes and my tan to perfection. Deciding to be cautious I leave my hair down, it'll cover more skin and I've become a lot more aware of exposing my neck since I've been hanging around with vampires. The dress makes me feel a bit like a fairy princess and I swish backwards and forwards across the room a few times enjoying the sound of the skirt and the way it moves, giggling, until I abruptly remember I'm a grown up. Like last night I opt for minimal make up, choosing to use my favourite red lipstick instead of plain gloss this time.

"Are you done yet?" Pam asks in a bored tone it must have taken centuries to perfect.

"Nearly."

I'm not sure what to do with my hair. Swept back off my face or allowed to fall over one eye, Lana Turner style?

Oh hell, how many Balls am I ever going to get to go to? Hollywood siren it is.

"Finally." Pam growls as I unlock the door.

Her fangs come down with a click and I swear she licked her lips but it was so quick I can't be sure.

She's changed too, out of her severe black business suit and into a dress not dissimilar to mine but in the deepest dark blue I've ever seen, the light just falls into it as she moves. Her hair is swept up on her head but like me she's barely wearing any makeup.

"Well." She drawls, looking me up and down like a juicy steak. "Don't we make quite the pair."

I laugh guiltily, pride is a sin after all, but for once I don't feel like I'm going to pale into complete insignificance beside her.

"Fangs, Pam." I murmur, disturbed by the fact they're still down.

She snorts and they disappear.

"Eric will meet us downstairs, we are just waiting for the dog to accompany us."

I'm just about to remind her he has a name when he taps at the door. Apparently opening doors isn't a vamp thing so I swish across the suite to let Alcide in.

_. . . . whoa, down boy . . . ._

"Sorry, you look very nice Sookie." He mutters, flushing with embarrassment.

"Thanks Alcide, I'll take all of that as a compliment."

He grins in relief.

"Dog." Trust Pam to ruin the moment. "I assume you remember my Master's instructions for this evening?"

"I am to stay with Sookie at all times. Neither I, nor anyone else, is permitted to touch her. If there is a problem I am to call both you and Thalia immediately."

"Good." She nods. "Then let us go, the Master is waiting."

Alcide and I share a grin as we follow her out of the suite.

**EPOV**

There was nothing of note in tonight's business. The usual discussions on fees and tithes, new guidelines from The American Vampire League most of which will be wilfully ignored, vampire are very difficult to govern. As usual most of the business of the Summit will be conducted in the less formal setting of the Ball.

Already wearing my tux I have nothing to do for the next half an hour until I meet my child in the lobby. I am a little thirsty tonight but I am in the mood to drink from the source and so I bypass the bar and head for the donor desk situated near reception. It's a joyless way to feed, choosing from a menu like a human in a restaurant and then chastely taking your requirements. No thrill of the hunt, no slaking all your desires in one glorious assignation. But at least it is convenient. I wonder if this is the future for us now? A regent in the north is already considering opening a chain, McDonalds for vampires, what a _hideous_ thought.

"How can I help you Sir?" The human attendant asks.

"Whatever is available now, I have little time."

"Of course, please follow me."

College student, they are not particularly tasty, their diet and chemical habits are generally appalling but unlike a fangbanger at least this one isn't saturated with alcohol. The whole sterile and unsatisfying experience is completed in minutes. I shall have to treat myself to something more gratifying when we return home from this trip, I feel out of sorts, some hedonistic self-indulgence will probably help. Normally I would attend Sophie-Anne's infamous orgy on the last night but that is not going to be possible this year, I still have not fully worked out my excuse and I will need to discuss it with the Queen this evening.

Back in the lobby I lean against a pillar to scan the crowd while I wait.

There was very little I could do about Sookie's discovery this afternoon without drawing too much attention to her gift, so I merely informed the host's retinue and Quinn that a conversation had been overheard about The Fellowship of the Sun being active around the hotel. I have already told Andre the same, however there was no hiding from him that Sookie's gift was involved and I will have to have to be on my guard for the consequences.

Feeling my child approaching I turn my attention to the elevators in time to see her emerge with Herveaux and the non-human in tow.

The non-human looks even more desirable this night than last. Pam, what the _fuck_ are you doing to me?

I can feel my lust stirring and my fangs itching to slide out and into her soft tanned flesh.

Intolerable.

"Oh great." I hear her murmur to the dog. "He's glaring at me already. What now?"

"He's a vampire." The dog responds. "It's probably not personal."

Oh but it is. Extremely.

"Pam, Herveaux, I will join you inside shortly, Ms Stackhouse and I have matters to discuss."

**SPOV**

At least he won't attack me in the lobby and he probably won't want to wrinkle that perfect tux he's wearing and ruin the whole 'just stepped out of the pages of a magazine' thing he's got going on tonight.

"You are to be on your guard tonight and monitor the humans and weres."

Yes sir.

"You will tell me immediately if you hear anything you think is suspicious."

Got it.

"You will do so in private only, I do not wish to draw any further attention to your gift."

I nod.

"You will stay out of trouble."

I'll try.

Then he stops barking orders and steps uncomfortably close to me, staring down through hard glittering eyes.

And for a moment I have the strongest, and strangest, desire to reach up and touch his face. I'll tell him about the guy who seemed to be looking for me later, he's apparently got enough on his plate right now and not a lot is going to happen to me tonight with Alcide, Pam and Thalia following me around.

"Do you need to mark your territory again?" I ask instead. Crap, where did that come from?

He blinks at me.

"Um, sorry, don't know why I, um . . . ."

Another blink and then abruptly his hands are in my hair and his lips are covering mine, they pop open traitorously in surprise. His tongue is cool as it sweeps into my mouth, tasting me and learning me with unhurried yet purposeful strokes . That's so . . . . what's he doing . . . . I can't think straight . . . . my heart is hammering in my chest . . . . a rush of something I can't find a word for surges up from the balls of my feet, jolting every cell it passes on the way, escaping as a gasp which draws his tongue deeper into my mouth . . . . mustn't kiss him back . . . . oh god, it's happening again, he's all through me, warm . . . . Eric . . . . my hands flutter to his chest, I can feel it flexing under my palms as his hands roam in my hair . . . . so good . . . . can't let him do this . . . . can't think how to stop him . . . .

"Good evening Sheriff."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 19 No Ball**

**EPOV**

Quinn. Who would ever have thought I would be grateful to a tiger?

Sense of self-preservation returning I fight the instinct to push her away and instead take one last tour of her soft, warm mouth with my tongue.

She sways as I release my grip on her hair and I force myself to wrap an arm round her waist and pull her securely into my side, turning us to face him. Acutely aware of the warmth of her body and its light trembling. More than a thousand years of kissing experience can do that to a woman and if I did not loathe her so much I would be smirking with pride.

"Quinn. How may I help you?" I nod slightly in greeting.

"I am sorry to interrupt you Sheriff." He begins, clearly not. "But I must inform you that I have met with your Queen in order to request the telepath's services in regard to security at the hotel."

It is annoying but not entirely unexpected. The non-human stiffens beside me. She is probably annoyed about being treated like she does not exist, I can sympathise.

I raise an eyebrow and he continues.

"She assured me that Ms Stackhouse would be able to assist me and that you would be more than happy for her to do so."

"Now?" I ask, rapidly re-planning the night and the division of my resources. Mentally cursing Sophie-Anne for her stupidity.

"If I may borrow her for an hour or so to tour the hotel?"

I snort. "You certainly may not."

I can smell and hear Andre approaching. This is not good. I am about to be forced into a corner. I do not like being forced. I do not like corners. And I do not like being responsible, on pain of death, for this woman's safety.

"Sheriff Northman." Quinn begins. "I understand your desire to protect your asset . . . ."

"Northman." Andre interrupts, swaggering up to us. "You are not giving the tiger trouble with his perfectly reasonable request are you?"

The cause of all the trouble edges closer to me and well she might.

"Of course not Andre. I am merely reflecting, as the tiger suggested, on the requirements for my asset's safety. I am aware that she can be useful in this situation and I would not wish to withhold her services. And so I am sure you will understand why I will accompany her."

"Really Eric?" Andre drawls. "As a responsible agent of the Queen am I more than happy to fulfil that role, surely that will be sufficient?"

He is going to meet his true death. Not here and not now. But poor Sophie-Anne will shortly be mourning the loss of her favourite child. In the meantime there is nothing overt I can do.

The non-human is not a fool, she knows it too, and she is trembling again. Which just increases my annoyance. While neither the tiger nor Andre can do anything obvious to 'my human' there are many shades of grey in this scenario that could bring about _my_ true death.

I hope she is paying attention as I attempt to press myself into her inconveniently protected head.

"Ms Stackhouse has very limited experience with this kind of thing." I begin, hoping she will pick up on my cue. "I am sure she will _feel_ comfortable and be better able to focus if she has someone familiar with her."

"Yes." She confirms softly.

"Very well Northman." Andre concedes with a satisfied smile. "But it will not be you, the Queen has requested your presence while she talks with Arkansas."

The non-human relaxes slightly and I stifle a laugh, if not the accompanying smirk. She will be more comfortable with _anyone_ but me. I summon Pam, she and Herveaux joining us in a matter of seconds.

"Sookie will be assisting Quinn with his security requirements this evening." I inform them. "Herveaux you will accompany her."

He nods seriously and I turn the non-human to face me, fastening my hands around her upper arms and redoubling my efforts to get her mental attention as she looks into my eyes.

"There." I murmur in what I hope is the sort of comforting voice a human would appreciate. "I can _feel_ how much more relaxed you are already."

She blinks and to my relief the bond cracks open a little so I can feel her. It is enough. I will be able to feel any unreasonable escalation in her current level of fear and though Herveaux is no match for Andre or the tiger he will be able to occupy them long enough for me to react. It is the best I can do at such short notice.

"Eric." Pam hisses as we watch them exit the lobby heading for the hotel offices. "Are we in danger?"

Taking her arm I guide her back into the Ballroom, once again conscious of the noose tightening around my neck.

"We are vampire Pam, when are we not?"

**SPOV**

Call me pathetic but there's something about someone like Eric being concerned that makes someone like me downright terrified. If Alcide wasn't walking beside me I don't think I'd have been able to leave Eric. Odd isn't it how I trust him despite what happened last night?

Quinn, who was silent all through Eric's exchange with Andre is talking now, explaining the hotel layout and security measures to me and outlining how he thinks I will be able to help him. I'm amazed that I'm actually taking in most of what he's saying. His plan makes sense, he wants to expose me to any of the hotel staff and additional security staff who are working tonight and won't be available for me to read tomorrow. He doesn't want to hold them over or call them back in because that will expose the fact that we suspect something.

He's still talking as we reach his office and he shows me into a chair. Alcide stands beside me and Andre, who thankfully seems bored of the whole enterprise, lounges against the wall playing with his smart phone.

"So, do you think you can help me?" He asks finally.

I've warmed to him a little on the way down here. He takes his responsibility seriously and by extension the fact that I may be able to help him too. For some reason I don't understand, he's very hard to read, I seem to have somehow risen above the status of bimbo overnight.

"I can try." I answer. "I usually find it much easier with physical contact, especially with weres, but I can hardly go round the hotel feeling everyone up."

"Quite." Quinn chuckles. "As much as I am sure many of the men would enjoy it."

I blush and Alcide stiffens, thinking to himself that Quinn's too smooth for his own good.

"What about if you hear something you want to follow up on in more detail?" Quinn asks, still smiling. "Perhaps we should have a signal?"

"If I let you know if I find anyone could you trump up and excuse to get them in here so I can read them properly?"

"No problem."

"And then perhaps we could get a vampire to glamour the memory away so no one knows what we're up to?"

"I like your thinking Ms Stackhouse." Quinn nods. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

We're a strange procession as we make our way down into the bowels of the hotel. An overdressed waitress, two giant weres in tuxedos and a diminutive but thoroughly creepy vampire. Now done with his cell Andre hasn't stopped staring at me I'm some big ole juicy steak.

Most of the staff are so busy they barely notice us passing, their thoughts innocent enough and focussed on their work. I walk slowly to give myself as much time as possible to rifle through their heads, it must be an excruciatingly slow pace for Alcide and Quinn but they don't complain.

Done with the laundry and housekeeping we are now making our way through the kitchens, it's nothing like Merlotte's this is catering on a scale I can barely get my head round. Some of the staff here aren't native English speakers but though I can't understand their conscious thoughts I can still see their mental pictures. Like the other's they're focussed mainly on whatever is in front of them, small wonder, its organised chaos in here and I'm not sorry when we emerge back in the lobby to visit the hotel dining room.

The staff here have more time to think and instantly something catches my interest.

"Quinn." I stop. "Do you mind if we sit at one of the tables for a few minutes?"

"Of course not."

He summons a waitress who ushers us quickly to a table in a quiet corner. I select a chair that gives me a good view of the room and nod when Alcide asks me if I'd like a drink.

I'm not sure this is pertinent to what we're looking for but we have to start somewhere

Sipping my drink I scan the minds in the room looking for the woman who thought 'oh shit, telepath' the moment she saw me.

There she is, looks like she's in the kitchen at the moment waiting for her order to deliver.

_. . . . be careful what you think about, be careful, shit . . . ._

"_Tammy." A loud voice orders, startling her. "Pay attention."_

"_Sorry Alec."_

_. . . . shit, don't screw this up . . . . _

She's on her way back, loaded with plates and concentrating on not letting them slide off her arms in a way I'm totally familiar with.

_. . . . fuck, she's still here . . . . double fuck she's looking right at me . . . . oh shit, she's smiling, she can't know anything, I haven't thought about it, I won't think about it . . . ._

Of course she does, they always do, and when she realises the plates slide off her arm and clatter to the thickly carpeted floor. Quinn doesn't need me to tell him we need to talk to her, he's up and after her the instant she decides to make a dash for it.

"Does this happen to you often?" Alcide drawls.

"On and off." I murmur, remembering some of the mortifying experiences of my youth. The running and screaming thing is a whole lot worse when it's your own mother.

Wanting a distraction I let my attention wander to Eric. I can feel him inside me, the way I always can if I look, but now I can also sense his emotions. I really don't know how to describe it except that it's not as frighteningly alien as I thought it would be, maybe that just because I've got used to always having him inside me anyway. And I can't really decipher what he's feeling, perhaps vampires don't feel things the way we do, I try a bit harder. Boredom _and_ annoyance maybe?

And then I get curiosity, clear as daylight.

Oh, he must be able to feel me feeling him. God this stuff is complicated, we should have practised like he said.

Amusement. Then curiosity. Sharper this time.

Is he wanting to know if everything's okay? How do I 'answer' that?

I concentrate on the _idea_ of feeling okay and then after a moment I get amusement from him again. Huh, emotional Eric is more like old Eric . . . .

"The girl is in my office." Quinn interrupts my experiment, towering over the table. "Shall we go?"

"I hope this isn't a wild goose chase." I explain as we hurry back across the lobby. "I sensed someone earlier today who was looking for me, he had a surveillance photo or something and I saw the same photo in her mind. And she knew I was a telepath."

"All information is useful Ms Stackhouse." He assures me, ushering me back into his office.

The waitress is white with terror, her mind a screaming mass of uncoordinated thoughts.

The two security guards with her wait for us to file in and then leave.

Andre crouches down in front of her chair at inhuman speed, invading her personal space the way he did mine last night, she screams and her thoughts become even more scrambled. Especially when his needle like fangs run out and he hisses in excitement. Note to self never to show fear around him, he seems to like it.

"I can't read her if you frighten her insensible." I snap at him without thinking.

In the blink of an eye he's in my face instead and I take an involuntary step backwards.

Extremely sharp curiosity surges through me. Eric.

"Andre." Quinn says quietly. "Remember what we are trying to achieve here. Frightening Ms Stackhouse will only result in Sheriff Northman withdrawing her services."

I'm still being bombarded with demanding curiosity but I can't make myself calm down with Andre's fangs a mere inch from my face, his saliva is actually dripping down them. Ick. In the end Alcide breaks the stalemate by grabbing my arms and pushing me abruptly behind him.

Andre hisses again but sheaths his fangs, sauntering away to sit behind Quinn's desk, his shiny shoes resting insolently on the top of Quinn's computer keyboard.

Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea. I need clean underwear.

I take a deep breath and circle around Alcide, who is watching me warily. Quinn is also watching me with concern. Andre, thankfully, is ignoring me again.

Poor Tammy is practically hyperventilating so I get us both a cup of water from the machine in the corner and then lower myself in the chair next to hers.

"Are you alright?" I ask her gently as I hand her a cup.

"Y-yes."

_. . . . scared, so scared . . . . sorry mom . . . . should never have got involved in this . . . . vampire's gonna drain me, the preacher was right . . . ._

"Tammy, how did you know who I was?"

A man's face appears in her mind. About thirty? Fairly non-descript. Definitely not someone I know. He's wearing a grey baseball cap. Grey eyes, five o'clock shadow.

"Did he show you a photograph of me?"

The grainy photo I saw earlier appears in her mind. It's being held by a man's hand, slightly hairy with what looks like a mop and bucket underneath it, out of focus like it would be if you were concentrating on the photo.

She's still afraid to tell me anything. Funny how she's forgotten already that I can read her mind, because she's not answering my questions she thinks she's doing real well.

Now she's thinking about her mom. Regretting getting involved in this.

"Did he tell you I was a telepath?" I ask, gently drawing her back to what I want to know.

_. . . . I thought he was yanking my chain, mind readers don't exist in the real world . . . . it was only when . . . . shit . . . ._

She gasps, pulling back from me but it's too late.

_. . . . shit, I've done it again . . . ._

"Tammy. The more you try to hide your thoughts from me the easier it is for me to read them. It would be better if you just tell me the truth."

"I can't." She sobs.

"Perhaps some persuasion is in order?" Andre enquires, smiling nastily and showing his fangs again.

Tammy's mind flips out again.

"Young lady." Quinn says softly. "The safety of this hotel and everyone here has been threatened. We simply cannot afford not to know what you are hiding from us. One way or another you will tell us. I have a sister about your age. I would much rather you chose the easy way."

Alcide nods seriously.

It's Alcide's nod that finally brings home to me just how different the world is than I imagined. I thought I'd seen a lot of bad things but Alcide, a man I like and respect, is prepared to see this innocent girl harmed in order to protect the people gathered in the hotel. Though he knows as well as I do that what she knows might only be a threat to me.

I feel sick.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 20 A Hard Day's Night**

**SPOV**

The door opens and Eric strolls in, bow tie undone, shirt opened enough to reveal the top planes of his chest.

Tammy's head snaps round and despite her fear her first reaction is the same as mine.

_. . . . holy shit, he's hot . . . ._

"May I assist?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest and leaning casually back against the door.

"We are managing quite well Northman." Andre snaps, pulling his legs off the desk and sitting up straight, accidently betraying his fear of Eric.

"Really?" He enquires, raising his eyebrow. "From what I could tell coming down the hall you were planning to torture a human when a simple glamouring would suffice."

Tammy sobs again and I breathe a sigh of relief. Of course.

In the silence that follows Eric folds himself down as small as he can go in front of Tammy.

"Look at me." He commands.

She does, her eyes immediately becoming unfocussed. I watch, guiltily fascinated, Bill and I discovered fairly early on that I can't be glamoured and though I know now what a glamoured mind feels like I've never seen it done.

"What am I asking her?" Eric asks me without looking away from her eyes.

I fill him in on what I've learned and though he doesn't react outwardly an intense burst of anger swells inside me. So he's not happy and once again it's got something to do with me. I can see the eBay entry now. Waitress, mildly but usefully disabled, buyer collects.

Eric questions her quickly and thoroughly before erasing her memory of everything that happened from just before I stepped into the dining room, replacing what actually happened with a false memory about getting a chewing out from her boss and being sent on an early break, no telepath. I can actually see the glamour working in her mind, altering it and I think, with a bit of practise I could work out how to undo it. And _maybe_, do it myself.

Quinn has a couple of his guards escort her back to work.

"So." Eric observes, sprawling in Tammy's vacated chair. "A man is here looking for my asset. You have a waitress on your staff who is a member of the Fellowship of the Sun and has met with Steve Newlin, who has also been asked to look for my asset on the basis that Ms Stackhouse's gift was genuine and a supernatural sin against god."

Silence.

"And someone here believes Newlin will be very happy about whatever is about to happen."

Silence. Though I'm sure they can all hear my heart hammering away in my chest.

"I am not sure if there is a wider plot here." Eric continues. "Or if Newlin is merely seeking revenge against Ms Stackhouse for foiling his intentions in Dallas. Either way I am disinclined to find out. Since security here is laughable I am of a mind to take my asset and return to Louisiana."

"Her Majesty would not like that." Andre warns.

"Shall we ask her?" Eric enquires good naturedly.

"Ms Stackhouse." Quinn interrupts, focussing on me. "I deeply regret that there is a threat to you here and I will do everything in my power to negate it. And of course I respect the Sheriff's desire to remove you from harm's way. However, the presence of the Fellowship in the city cannot be ignored, if the Sheriff permits I would be most grateful for your assistance tomorrow in reading the day staff."

I ignore my conflicted instincts on the basis that Eric will answer him as my Master but when he stays quiet and I find myself compelled to form a response.

Glancing at the clock on his wall I realise how late, or rather, early it is.

"Assuming it is too late for us to leave tonight . . . ." I flick my eyes to Eric and he nods. "I would be more than happy to help you tomorrow as long as my Master is happy with the arrangements."

Ugh. I think that's the first time I've said that out loud. Master. So un-American. It burnt, I swear it did, I'll have a sore throat tomorrow for sure.

Amusement. I can feel his amusement. The jerk.

"Herveaux will accompany her at all times." Eric orders. "If at any time she or he is unhappy with what is happening they will be allowed to leave immediately."

"Agreed." Quinn responds.

"If she is not in my suite, in excellent condition, when I rise, I will kill you." Eric asserts.

"I understand Sheriff." Quinn answers, bowing his head.

_. . . . like I haven't already made certain I can get into your suite during the day if I need to . . . ._

I clamp down on my reaction when a tsunami of calm hits me.

Dial it back a notch Eric, if I weren't sitting down I'd be laid out on the floor . . . .

"We are done here." He announces, surging to his feet and dragging me with him.

"We are not." Andre objects. "She has not swept the accommodation floors, the Ballroom or the roof."

"Very well." Eric chuckles, sweeping his arm toward the door. "Shall we?"

…..

It was long. It was boring. And it revealed nothing apart from how little accustomed I am to grown up shoes and why women in ball gowns always have wraps, it was cold outside. After an age we found ourselves back in the Ballroom where everyone, vampire, were and human, seemed to be coming to the happy end of a high old time. Sookie's first Ball.

Alcide hustles off to get me a drink and Eric directs me to a chair, probably aware of my extreme weariness at this point since I haven't closed down our bond.

I vaguely acknowledge Quinn bidding me goodnight, Andre flouncing off in a huff and Pam and the elusive Thalia joining us.

I'm so tired. And I can't get my shields back up. It didn't seem to be such a problem while I was 'working' but now I feel like every mind in the city is trying to tell me something I don't need to know. There's so much I need to think about, so little I can focus on with all that noise.

Eric and Pam are talking. Thalia has her back to us, watching the thinning crowd. Alcide's almost as tired as I am and we manage a wan smile for each other across the table.

Oh god. Ten am we agreed with Quinn, that's not much more than four hours and I still have to get out of this dress. My eyes slide closed. My disability is certainly getting a workout this week, wonder if I can learn to use it while I'm asleep, how hard can it be . . . .

…..

"Would you like me to carry you up to bed?" Eric murmurs in my ear.

"No." I grumble, twitching and swatting at him, his breath is tickling me. "I'd rather crawl."

He laughs quietly and strong arms gather me up, bridal style.

"Crawling." I object feebly without opening my eyes.

"Will take far too long." He chuckles.

I huff but burrow deeper into his chest.

The elevator dings. Doors open and close

Ah, soft bed.

"Would you like me to undress you?"

I snort, rolling away from him, as if.

…..

Noise. Invasive horrible noise.

What?

Argh. My alarm. Eric must have set it.

Instinctively I reach across and give it a good slap.

There's a clatter and then blissful silence.

But I'm not comfortable.

Once again I have gone to bed fully clothed, not that I'm not grateful under the circumstances, but my lovely dress wasn't designed for this and as much as I'd like to fall back to sleep it isn't going to happen. Yawning I get up, wrestling painfully with the dress until it capitulates and slides to the floor. My underclothes put up a similar struggle but eventually I'm free to stumble into the shower.

My shower at home, a paltry dribble compared to this, wakes me up. This one rips me back to consciousness by flaying the skin from my bones and almost blasting my still sleepy body into the wall. I must have mucked up the settings. It's a short yet violent struggle but eventually I emerge victorious, with clean hair.

I rescue my alarm. Eric has set it with very little understanding of how long it takes me to get going in the morning. It's already quarter to ten.

To add to my stress there's a pounding at the door.

"Sookie?"

Alcide.

Wrapping myself more securely in the towel I dart out of my room to let him in.

"Jesus." He laughs dryly. "You look worse than I feel."

"Thanks. I don't think I'm cut out for vampire hours. Can you order us some breakfast? I need to get dressed."

"No problem cher."

Rubbing my hair frantically to get as much moisture out as I can I twist it up into a pony tail and drag on some of my 'professional' clothes. My face will have to stay naked, there isn't time and I can't be bothered anyway. Wearily I survey myself in the mirror. What I could really do with today is some quality processing time but breakfast has arrived and Quinn won't be far behind it, once again the chance to come to terms with what's going on will have to wait.

At least this time I manage to get some of the good stuff before the werewolf lays waste to it. Fortunately the food and my first cup of coffee kick start the parts of my brain that haven't reported for duty yet.

"Alcide, we've got a problem."

"We have?"

"I heard Quinn last night, he was thinking about being able to get in Eric's room any time he wants to."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense, security must have access to all the codes and systems for the vamp rooms in case of emergency."

"I don't trust him. We can't leave. Someone needs to watch Eric."

Alcide frowns. "Maybe you should pretend to be sick, you still look rough."

Nice.

"No. I can't. I still have a feeling we're missing something and there's more to this than Newlin being after me. Sure he knows I had something to do with Godric getting out and Gabe's death but it just feels like too much trouble for little old me."

"You have self-esteem issues." He drawls. "You know that don't you?"

I wave my hand at him, not relevant, I still think I'm right.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" He sighs eventually.

"I should go with Quinn and you should be the one who's sick and has to stay here."

"Sookie." His face twists. "One. The Sheriff will kill me, slowly and probably quite painfully, if I let you go off alone. Two. I'm not doing it anyway, because _I_ don't want you going off alone with the Fellowship nutjobs after you."

"I'm not leaving the hotel Alcide and all the vampires are out for the day. I didn't get anything from Quinn that leads me to believe he means me any harm. I'm sure I'll be fine if I stay with him and the guards."

I get up, grabbing the wastepaper basket and taking it to empty into the one in my room.

"Sookie." Alcide growls as I return.

"Fingers down the back of your throat, there's a good doggie . . . ."

…..

"Oh dear." Quinn mutters at the sight of Alcide flung out on the couch with a basket of barely digested breakfast next to him.

I work in a bar, I've cleaned up puke a time or two but it's having the desired effect on Quinn, he's thinking about chucking up himself.

"Yes." I sigh. "I hope it's just food poisoning and not a security breach. Is anyone else sick?"

"Not that I'm aware of, I'll check when we get back to my office." Quinn mumbles.

"I'm not sure that will be possible." I sigh again, wringing my hands for good measure as I slip inside his mind. "Eric's instructions were quite specific."

"Please, Ms Stackhouse, I will double the guard working with us and take full personal responsibility. You will be perfectly safe with me."

Yes, he means it, there's no duplicity there, he really wants my help and he's committed to ensuring my safety.

"Alcide, I think I should go."

He struggles upright, a sheen of sweat on his face and in his mind I can see he's fighting the urge to puke again. Men.

"The Sheriff will not like it." He groans.

"I will take good care of her Herveaux." Quinn assures him before turning his attention to me with relief. "Ms Stackhouse, the sooner we get started the sooner I can have you back here."

I grab my purse and follow him out the door. Behind me Alcide groans and the couch protests as he flops back down.

Quinn and I ride the elevator in silence, which is good because I'm still trying to wriggle my way around the snarly thoughts in his head. He didn't seem put out that Alcide would be staying in the suite all day but I can't tell if that's because he's no nefarious intentions toward Eric or because he doesn't consider Alcide a problem. At least Alcide knows how to use the gun he's carrying.

What a day, what a week, what a life, this is turning out to be.

We sit in Quinn's office for an hour, drinking coffee, while I dip into the minds of the office staff that are beavering away around us. Nothing. So I have another go at him. It's easier this time, probably because he's bored and thinks my mind is on something else. The only problem with doing it this way, without asking a question, is that you only get what they decide to think about. Funny how my mind reading morals have all but disappeared without me even noticing.

He has indeed got a younger sister and she's a right handful by all accounts. He has a mother too, who can't help him with his sister, but he's not thinking about why. Now he's onto work. He likes what he does, prefers it to the pits. He dislikes having to stay so closely tied to vampires though and he wishes he didn't always feel like his life is in someone else's hands. I can empathise with that, the bottom of the food chain isn't a good place to be, once you realise that's where you are. Now he's thinking about Eric, apparently he harbours no doubts the Viking will kill him if anything happens to me and he's resolving to take extra special care of me. And then he's on to me. I don't seem to be the type to get mixed up with vampires. Eric seems to treat me with more respect than most vampire's do their human pets. He's intrigued by the idea that Eric doesn't seem to be fucking me and then he's thinking about what it would be like to . . . . time to go, I'm pretty sure if I ever have that expression on my face it won't be Quinn that puts it there.

My disability ensured a long time ago that though I'm a virgin I'm no innocent, I didn't get much choice.

"We're done here." I announce, jerking him out of his revere. "Nothing I'm afraid."

He gets to his feet, he's a big man and it seems to take a while.

"Let's collect some guards and tour the hotel then." He sighs, offering me his arm.

With an apologetic smile I decline and he smiles back at me. We're both thinking the same thing, vampires and their silly rules.

We start with laundry and housekeeping again and immediately I realise what I missed last night. These people are all wearing grey coveralls and in some cases matching baseball caps, there are mop and bucket combos everywhere. I slow down and incline my head toward the tiny office in the corner. With a nod he escorts me over, shooing out the occupant and closing the door behind us.

"The guy in Tammy's mind. He was wearing one of these uniforms."

"Sit down." He suggests, taking a chair himself. "Can you hear him?"

"No, give me a minute to sort everything out, it's not like flicking between TV channels."

With my back to the tiny window I close my eyes and concentrate.

It takes a few minutes.

And holy crap! I'm clearly not very good at this, how could I have missed it so many times?

"Bombs. There are bombs in the hotel."

"What?" Quinn demands jerking to his feet and reaching for his cell.

"They've planted bombs, everywhere."

"That's impossible I, the weres and the vampires too, would have been able to smell the explosives, there's nothing."

"Only explosives down here, the detergents have been hiding the smell. The others are firebombs . . . ."

"We'd smell . . . ." His fingers hover over the keys of his cell.

"Yes, whatever, detergent Quinn, cleaning carts, everywhere in the hotel, are we taking the risk?"

"When?" He asks, dialling.

I look up at the clock on the wall.

"Noon."

He follows my gaze. It's eleven forty five.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 21 Super Happy Fun Slide**

**SPOV**

"Sookie!" Quinn roars as I streak away from him across the crowded lobby. "Are you crazy?"

Rhetorical question surely?

The alarms are already blaring as I kick off my professional heels and start up the stairs, the first couple of floors are easy but soon I'm fighting against a tide of people making their way down with single minded determination. Some are even man-handling travel coffins, I haven't thought that far ahead, I guess Alcide and I, assuming he's still up there, can come up with something. It seems to take forever but finally I burst free on our floor, battered, bruised and grateful for the plush red carpet on my bare feet.

Alcide is already hovering in the doorway of our suite.

"Thank god." He growls, running forward to meet me with a crushing hug. "What the hell's happening?"

"Bombs." I gasp. "Hotel's full of bombs. We have to get the vampires out."

"How?" He asks sensibly.

"Can you handle Pam and Thalia if I get Eric?"

"Probably but how the hell are you going to carry _him_?"

"He's old, Pam says he can get up during the day if he has to, it'll be fine."

"Sookie . . . ."

I can see in his mind that he's thinking about slinging me over his shoulder and making a run for it.

"No. Alcide. They're our responsibility. We have to get them out and we don't have time to argue about it."

"Fine." He huffs. "Are you sure you can manage?"

No.

"Yes. Now go, we haven't long left, the timer was set for noon."

With a curse he wheels away and in moments he's disappeared around the corner.

The light tight shutters have come down on all the windows and its pitch black inside the suite, the only illumination the blinking green light on the keypad of Eric's door. I manage to get to it without losing too many chunks of toe on the semi invisible furniture, sighing in relief when the door opens, the alarms must release all the locks. My relief turns to fear when I realise the lid of Eric's travel coffin is up and he isn't inside but then I spot him flung across the bed, naked, one hand cupping his assets.

I know he's technically dead at this point but I can't believe the noise hasn't roused him. What if I can't get him to wake up?

"Eric!" I yell in his ear.

"Eric!" I shake him by the shoulders, screaming in his face this time. His skin is soft and smooth, like a baby's bottom.

"Eric! Wake up!" This time I double slap him.

Oh god Eric, please wake up, I'll drag you out if I have to but we won't make it, the bombs are underneath us and I really, really, hate fire. What if I can't wake him up? Oh god I wish I was wearing a watch, how long have we got?

Think. Use your brain. Oh shit. Retreating inside myself I start gathering up the sticky Eric light, mentally abusing it as I go along with everything I can think of. "ERIC!"

It works, his eyes snap open and in a moment I'm trapped under him on the bed.

"What are you doing?" He snarls, fangs out, face twisted in fury.

"Alarms! Bombs! Trying to wake you up."

Instantly I'm released and dragged to my feet with him, except now he looks confused and groggy.

"We have to get out of here Eric. We only have a few minutes left."

"Pam, Thalia?"

"Alcide's getting them. Move Eric, please, we have to get out."

I don't know what came first the deep, lung vibrating boom, or being thrown in the air like a rag doll. I'm pretty sure the ringing ears and the pain were a close second.

Somehow I've ended up on the bed with Eric arched over me like a faraday cage.

"Ouch." He mutters succinctly as falling ceiling rains down around us.

The rumbling boom is finally receding but even I can hear the ominous creaking and groaning of the structure around us and it dawns on me that the bed is already canting at an alarming angle. The building shudders and I can already smell burning.

"Are you injured?" Eric demands.

"Not seriously." My arm hurts but the initial flare of pain is already receding. "We have to get out, the Fellowship planted firebombs too."

Like Alcide, Eric doesn't waste time asking stupid questions about how I know, instead he gets to his feet, swaying slightly and then pulling the comforter out from underneath me like a magician with a table cloth.

The building shudders again and he staggers as he makes his way over to one of the bent light tight shutters, wrapping the bedclothes tightly round his head and upper body he grabs hold of the corner and rips the shutter away, ducking back from the sunlight that streams into the room.

I'm already off the bed and by his side, looking out of the window and down. We're on the pyramid side of the hotel and thanks to the new list of the building the expanse of glass is not as steep as it used to be. The whirl of activity down below us I can ignore because I've a horrible feeling I know what he's thinking.

"You're crazy!" I shriek, if the word fits . . . .

"We cannot risk the fire." He growls, voice thick and slow. "We will use the travel coffin as a sled."

"What?!"

I watch stupidly as he drags the coffin, still on its wheeled stand across the room and positions it in front of the window. If it weren't for the fact I can see the eerie glow of flames reflected on the walls in the other room I'd do more objecting, instead I grab the sheets off the bed and tuck them around as much of his body as I can. Despite being sluggish in one fluid movement he picks up the side table nearest the window and smashes it into the glass which shatters on impact.

I can't believe we're going to do this.

And then we are. In a lighting fast move I can't follow he snatches me up, bracing me between his legs in the coffin, and even before I've opened my mouth to start screaming he's pushed us off and we're hurtling down the one of the steel girders forming the pyramid.

It's a short and terrifying ride and I'm not sure what was loudest, the shriek of tortured metal, the sound of shattering glass, or my hysterical screaming.

About ten feet from the bottom the steel girder is twisted and we hit it at maximum velocity, the coffin flipping up and flinging us out like two well thrown footballs. I think Eric was trying to get his body between me and the ground but he failed. The impact knocked all the breath out of me, the verdict is out on my teeth . . . .

"Jesus Christ!" Someone shouts, running toward us.

Despite the pain I manage to twist onto my back, Eric is already smoking, most of the blankets having been stripped away by the impact.

"Cover the vampire!" I scream. Ouch.

To my relief one of the fire-fighters throws a tarp over him as he rushes toward me.

"Are you alright Miss?" He asks.

"Yes, I think so, I landed on my face."

"It looks like it Miss, lie still while I get one of the medics to check you over. MEDIC! Over here!"

"Is he okay?" I ask, gesturing toward the tarp covered mound that is Eric.

"I don't know Miss, not my area of speciality, he ain't moving but on the plus side he ain't smoking anymore either. They're moving all the vamps to the underground parking garage at the bottom of the street, don't worry about him, we'll get him down there."

"What about everyone else, did they get the hotel evacuated?"

He winces. "There's still quite a few folks trapped in there, we're working to get 'em out. You were lucky Miss, there's one hell of a fire raging now."

I close my eyes. Firebombs. Just how sick do you have to be to blow the bottom out of a hotel and then set fire to the rubble? I don't even want to think about it . . . .

I open them again when I get a glimpse of my bloody face in the mind of the EMT as he bends over me. The fire-fighter flashes me a tight smile and then goes on about his business.

"We need to get you down to the hospital and checked out." The EMT announces after a cursory inspection. "You don't look too bad, your eyes are clear and focussed but . . . ."

Another earth shattering explosion drowns out his words and he leans right down over me in an attempt to protect me from the wave of flaming debris bouncing down the side of the hotel.

"Can you stand?" He asks urgently when it's over. "It's not safe here."

"Fear is a great motivator." I whimper as he helps me to my feet, steadying me as I sway slightly.

I don't think anything's broken, I just feel stiff all over so it doesn't take him long to get me to the other side of the street where a group of the walking wounded already sitting on the sidewalk, resting against an undamaged shop front.

He helps me sit down and then mutters about being back in a minute when someone else starts calling for a medic.

Eric seems to be okay, he's out of it again but I can feel his presence inside me. Tentatively I open the bond to check, there are no emotions there, just a steady hum of what I can only assume is simple existence. I can't just leave him there, curled up in the street like road kill, with a martyred sigh I struggle back to my feet and wobble over with every intention of dragging him down the street myself.

I can't do that either. My shields are shot but the clearest things coming through are the thoughts of the people still trapped inside the hotel. I can tell where they are, I can help the rescue crews dig in the right places, I can even feel the voids. I can't leave.

"Sorry Eric." I mutter, hefting some of the more manageable chunks of rubble to hold down the edge of his tarp. "I'll get to you in a minute."

Several hours later it's all I can do to still put one foot in front of the other. I've gone down several times in the higgledy piggledy rubble and my body is a mass of scrapes, cuts and bruises. I'm pretty sure the Stackhouse stubbornness is the only thing keeping me upright. That and the Fire Chief, who despite his initial threat to have me arrested, soon changed his tune when he realised I could deliver on what I was advertising. That man's one hard task master.

I haven't seen anyone I know except Quinn and my worry about Alcide and the others is sapping my ability to concentrate. What if I sent him off to his death? It's one thing for me to be impetuous and stupid but it's a heinous crime to drag someone else into it. I'm worried about Eric too, despite asking several times no one has moved him to the parking garage and I keep twisting around to check that he's still there and safe. He's going to be furious when he wakes up . . . .

My distraction is my undoing and I go down again, face first naturally, this time I'm not inclined to get up. There's nothing left for me to do. There are no more thoughts to look for, the last one faded away a few minutes ago, there's only voids left and since the fire is out I guess they can wait. I have to get up though, I have to sort Eric out and find the others.

One of the fire-fighters escorts me down off the wreckage, depositing me on the asphalt beside Eric before zooming off to find an EMT. I can't help feeling it should be dark, a nightmare scene like this should be shot at night, with flickering lights and ominous shadows but despite the still billowing smoke if I look up I can see clear blue sky and the tops of perfectly normal looking buildings. It just feels wrong.

I hurt and there's blood running into my eyes.

The rescue workers are bringing out bodies now. I don't want to stay here for that. Turning I look down the street, it's only a few hundred yards to the parking garage and it's all downhill.

Crawling around I shove the debris off Eric's tarp and after a couple of false starts I manage to get it wrapped around him so I can grip the corners. Then I get to my feet and heft it over my shoulder so I can drag him behind me. He weighs a ton. Why couldn't he have been a small skinny Viking and not built like a brick outhouse?

I'm tired and everything hurts. Blood keeps dripping into my eyes and my face feels like it's on fire. It's hit a few hard surfaces today, I must look like hell. I need a bath. He's getting heavier, how is that even possible? My ankle really hurts. And my knee. And my arm. Even my hair hurts.

Finally reaching the entrance I start down the ramp. For some reason I'm giggling. I must be feeling better, a bit light headed though. What a day. I've been blown up. Ridden a coffin down the side of a hotel, spent hours digging through rubble listening to things I'd rather not have heard and topped it all off dragging a dead guy down the street wrapped in a tarp. I really shouldn't be laughing, it's inappropriate and it hurts my ribs.

When the squarest and shortest woman I've ever seen appears in front of me wearing a white Doctor's coat it is, without a doubt, the funniest thing I've ever seen. Exhausted I drop the edges of the tarp and sink to my knees, so now she's taller than me. This is also funny.

"A fairy rescuing a vampire." She drawls. "This is new."

The air around her starts to shimmer. Or at least I think it does, I've blood in my eyes again.

"Niall. Niall Brigant. You are needed." The tiny woman intones.

Oh yes. I could do with a hug right now. Oh look, here comes another hard surface to introduce my face to . . . .


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 22 Visiting Hours**

**NPOV**

Summoning The Keepers and waiting for them to open the portal to my Great Granddaughter's realm takes time and it is already dark when I arrive. Dr Ludwig has warded the parking garage to keep all the supernaturals inside safe, from each other and the ignorant humans who have caused all this death and destruction, and she has done a competent job, but nevertheless I shore them up.

The makeshift hospital is mainly full of vampires and weres with but there are a few humans. My little ray is the only fae and so she is easy to locate.

Her stalker is at her bedside giving her his blood. He is also lapping at her still bleeding wounds, sealing them carefully with his saliva and the occasional drop of his blood. I presume he has not forgotten what this will mean. I am not sure how she will react when she finds out and though I have not lied to her I cannot predict what will happen entirely, to my knowledge no fairy has twice bonded to a vampire before and certainly no two like these.

He is furious. It seems to be a default position for him at the moment and I cannot help but feel a little sorry for him, I have been through what he is currently experiencing and it is not pleasant in the least. In fact it is a bit like being repeatedly hit over the head by a spectacularly hard brick, and that is only on the good days.

Keeping myself invisible for the time being I move closer to them. His blood will heal her physical wounds but an experience like this will leave an aching shadow on her soul which he is not yet able to fix, she will need the close proximity of her fae kin to heal _all_ her wounds for now. She is looking extremely battered and worn but already I can see his blood working its magic on her. He has to tear his wrist open several times before Dr Ludwig decides Sookie has had enough and sends him away.

He strides by me with murder in his cold blue eyes and I cannot help but smile. We are a little similar he and I. His child is waiting for him and with plenty of vampire business to attend to he will be gone for long enough for me to accomplish all my goals.

As soon as he is out of sight I take my place at Sookie's side, tucking her hand securely in mine, immediately her fretful semi sleep evens out into a deep slumber as her essential spark recognises mine.

"Your Majesty." Ludwig greets me with a deep bow.

"Patricia, by the stars it is such a long time since I have seen you, and you are looking even lovelier than the last."

Ah, I can still make her blush, even after all these years, and it is several moments before she regains her composure.

"I wish I could say the same for your fairy Majesty. Her spirit has been sapped by this experience. I assume you will be able to unite her with her kin to aid the healing?"

"It is done."

She blinks rapidly in reaction and then disappears away to her next task with another deep bow, her place immediately taken with a vampire I know, I assume the Northman has left her to guard my little ray. An excellent choice.

"Thalia." I acknowledge happily.

"Your Majesty." She responds, inclining her head very slightly.

"It is good to see you again. I was very sorry to hear about Godric."

She nods, closing her eyes briefly. She was very loyal to Godric and I would not be surprised if he had not asked her to serve the Northman in order to keep an eye on him, she is a fine swordswoman and a ruthless killer.

"I had suspect Eric's woman be fairy."

"You must not tell him Thalia." I warn her. "The truth will be revealed when it is good and ready."

Thalia shrugs. "I will continue guard Princess until Viking gets message."

"Thank you. I am afraid it may take a while."

She shrugs again. "Fairy Prince save Godric and Thalia life many years ago."

"It was my pleasure."

"Of course." She says with an impish grin before blurring away.

I settle back in my chair with a contented sigh, keeping a tight hold on my little ray's soft hand. I should get out more often, it is good for the soul to reconnect with life.

My good mood starts to leak away after a while though as her pain seeps into me, which is of course why I am here, a trouble shared, a joy multiplied, it is how fairy work. I cannot simply fix everything for her but a few hours in my presence will be as good as a week's worth of talking about her experience.

After a while her eyes flutter open and I lean over her, watching the smile light up her poor abused face, she reminds me so much of my wife it is sometimes painful to look at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Achy and tired." She sighs. "It's been such a bad day."

"I know." I soothe, stroking my fingers through her hair. "You did great things my child. I am proud of you."

"I wish I could have done more." She whimpers, tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes. "Those people, when their thoughts faded away before we could get to them . . . ."

"No one can save everyone Sookie." My voice is soft and laced with the sadness of experience. "It is one of the harshest lessons to learn."

Her tears fall faster.

"It hurts." She gasps.

"I know. I know." And the only thing I can do is hold her as she pours out her misery and sobs herself back to sleep.

Ludwig returns to administer a sleeping draught.

"She is better." She observes.

I nod. Relieved but now painfully swollen with the sadness of my own experiences. Such a small price to pay to ease hers.

Done with my responsibilities here for the time being and I retrieve my baggage and my sword. With no one here to advise me against it I have decided that a little _hunting_ is in order . . . .

**EPOV**

We are in an abandoned cement works just outside the city, which the local monarch has provided for us. Suspicion and bloodlust are thick in the air.

Despite their tangible anger it is always the way with vampire to talk, politic and posture, before anything constructive can be done.

I listen but do not participate. I have my own concerns.

William Compton is here. Newly appointed Investigator for Victor Madden, King of Philadelphia. A vampire who has threatened me working for a vampire who is treacherous enough to give us all a bad name, there is a credible rumour that DeCastro, the King of Nevada, gave Victor Philadelphia to distract him from taking his own realm.

Peter Threadgill, the King of Arkansas and the Queen's intended has met his true death. The state is not worth much and ordinarily I would expect Sophie-Anne to just step in and take it with no opposition from the other monarchs. However, Sophie-Anne was one of the vampire grievously injured today and this changes everything. She will take a long time to heal and until she does we will be vulnerable to a takeover by another state. Andre will not be considered much of an impediment. I might, however, and I will need to think very carefully about how I will deal with any situation that may arise from this point. I do not wish to abandon the Queen in her hour of need but I have lives that I am responsible for.

And then, there is the issue of the non-human. My intention to minimise her allure amongst my peers has gone badly awry. Her gift, which I had spent all week belittling, is now accepted fact, its strength and usefulness unquestioned.

It is not very often in the last few centuries I have felt the need to talk to my Maker but tonight, tonight the loss of his wise counsel and steady presence is a cold drafty place inside me that rivals the one I am standing in. And that makes me as angry as anything else I might have to deal with. It is rolling off me in waves and I am unsurprised that my child and I are standing in our own inviolate space in the midst of the milling crowd.

When the talking here is done someone will be charged with finding the humans responsible for this atrocity and taking them brutally to task for their transgression. That someone will be me. It is a speciality of mine. And I would be looking forward to it, immensely, if it were not for my other concerns. Who will gain from having my focussed so diluted? What will they gain? And what will be the consequences for my child and I?

A crackle in the air, the unmistakable presence of live magic, has me looking upward sharply. At the highest peak of the cavernous roof the air begins to shimmer and abruptly three bodies materialise and hurtle toward our assembled group. Only a few other vampire have felt it but nevertheless tension and fear stir the crowd who clear enough room for the three headless human bodies to land in an uncannily neat row. The only sound is the smashing of their bones and the mist of blood droplets landing on every available surface. Before pandemonium breaks out a trio of heads break free from the disappearing shimmer, following the corpses down and landing with unerring accuracy on the chests of their former owners.

As the crowd breaks apart in a tumult of shouts and questions, some calling out for answers and others already scaling the old machinery to gain access to the rafters, two of us move forward to examine the new arrivals.

"The woman is the waitress your human questioned at the hotel." Quinn says quietly. "The other two are wearing hotel maintenance staff uniforms."

"The bombers?" I ask.

"I would imagine so." He nods.

"They have been beheaded with a very sharp sword." I observe, noting the clean lines and lack of tearing.

The tiger swallows and I smile slightly. To those not brought up in the age of the sword, even those who fight with tooth and claw, the damage they can do in skilled hands is clinical and chilling. It is the _intent_ of it I think. Being ravaged, torn apart or hacked to death is an act of obvious violence and rage, this, this takes the word premeditated and underlines it in thick black marker and as such it has all the hallmarks of a supernatural execution. But who and why?

The tiger and I step back as Russell Edgington, the King of Mississippi and easily the oldest vampire here, calls the unruly mob to order. At least half a dozen vampire have already left, searching for the culprit, something I am fairy certain they will not find. Compton is one of those missing and I am uncomfortably sure I know where he is heading.

The resultant discussion takes us perilously close to dawn and I am granted the responsibility of finding the executioner and deducing his motivations for a council of the monarchs to consider. Of greater concern at the moment is the disappearance of our main target, the Reverend Steve Newlin. With admirable decisiveness Texas despatched his officers to retrieve him before we even met this night. However when they reached the Fellowship compound in Dallas he was already gone. They found decapitated guards and a handful of hysterical followers babbling about an avenging angel with a flaming sword bearing Newlin, screaming, off into the night. Humans. There are no such things as angels, avenging or otherwise. Only monsters with a flair for the dramatic. Stan as monarch in situ will be leading the search for Newlin. We both suspect we will ultimately be looking for the same thing and agree to stay in touch as the meeting breaks up.

Pam has already arranged secure accommodation for us this day but I feel compelled to return to the parking garage and not just because I believe Compton has headed there. I will relieve Thalia and hear her report before ensuring that Herveaux is fit to take over the non-human's security at dawn.

The flight is short and the despite the onset of dawn the area is a hive of activity with donors still supplying blood to those vampire well enough to take it. Sophie Anne, I note, is not one of them, because of the severity of her injuries it is her entourage of vampires who are providing blood for her. This is not good, not good at all.

Thalia has nothing to report and so I dismiss her quickly as Herveaux has healed and is already hovering at the non-human's bedside.

It is the other presence there that almost causes my anger to boil over. Not Compton, but Cataliades's large human, Niall, who is holding her hand as she sleeps.

"You are touching my human." I growl. She is, after all, mine.

"Oh, sorry." He murmurs, releasing her. "She was distressed, my touch seemed to calm her."

"Why are you here?" I ask and I swear I can feel the rope twitching around my neck.

"My Master wishes me to inform you that he does not consider the harm she has befallen to be your responsibility."

I exhale loudly. Relieved but also furious. A mere human was despatched to check on her and inform me, _ME_, that I would not be facing any consequences. I can foresee a time when I will end up killing the wretched woman myself in order to end the indignity.

His amusement at my predicament is hard to ignore when I could so easily tear him limb from limb and bathe in his curiously bland blood. He is obviously well aware of the protection that belonging to Desmond Cataliades affords him because my glistening fangs are having no effect on him whatsoever.

"Another vampire dropped by while you were talking with your minion." Niall observes, happily watching my eyes darken and retract to mere slits. "He had dark hair and seemed a little oily and over eager, so I sent him away, I do hope I have not overstepped the mark?"

"How did you 'send him away'?" I demand suspiciously. Does Compton know Cataliades's human and if so, how?

"Oh that was easy." The human chuckles. "I pointed out your arrival to him and he melted away like mist in the sun. He did not seem at all happy to see you. He may have used a curse word."

I cannot supress the animalistic growl that rumbles deep in my chest as I survey the area, Compton is gone and dawn is sapping my strength, only this huge over confident human stands between me and my last responsibility of the night.

"Ah." Niall smirks. "I will take that as my cue to leave I think."

And he strolls away, apparently without a care in the world.

With him gone I stare down at _her_. She is a beautiful woman even with her healing injuries. Unconsciously I reach out, tracing the pad of my finger lightly around the fading bruise on her cheek and then down the side of her face to her jaw.

She sighs peacefully, turning her head into my touch until her soft lips come into contact with my palm, suffusing it with warmth.

She saved my life.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 23 Home**

**SPOV**

I don't remember much of the journey home, whatever the tiny, square doctor gave me pretty much wiped me out. I know I dreamed.

I dreamed of being trapped in a collapsed building. I refuse to recall those dreams. Or at least I intend to, as soon as I'm mentally able.

I dreamed of heat and warmth. I dreamed of it stealing through my body and not making me afraid. I dreamed of a featureless man who stole the world away from me, leaving me with only him. In my defence it wasn't _entirely_ a sex dream, the pleasure and warmth I felt were so much more than that. I really wanted to hang onto this one but it kept being blasted away by intruding reality.

The car ride. The flight. The limo which took Alcide and I back to my house. Each change punctuated by the floating sensation of being carried, the different qualities to the air around me. I vaguely remember making coffee for Alcide and myself before selfishly collapsing into my bed and passing out properly.

"Sook! Sook!"

Jason's outraged voice jerks me awake uncoiling my body like a jolt of electricity. My muscles protest weakly, my joints pop painfully and the sunlight streaming through the window sears my bleary eyeballs.

"Sookie Stackhouse! You get out here right now and explain why there's a naked man asleep on our couch!"

There is?

Hastily I ping out of bed, reeling from the sudden lack of blood in my head and staggering forward to pull my door open.

Oh.

Jason's in the short hallway leading down to my room and the naked man is hovering behind him, looking about as confused and groggy as I must be. Alcide.

"What the hell Sook?" Jason continues. "You go away on your first vacation ever and come back with a naked man? What would Gran say?"

"I am _not_ naked." Alcide rumbles, pinging the elastic of his jockey shorts for emphasis.

I can't help it, I laugh.

"Jason. This is my friend Alcide. Alcide this is my brother." As you already know.

"I'll put some coffee on." Alcide decides, rubbing his outstanding midriff absently and ambling away.

"He knows how to work Gran's coffee machine?" Jason squeaks.

That machine is notoriously temperamental and has a reputation for only responding to the Stackhouse touch, even Tara can't get it work.

"He does." I nod. "If it accepts him, then so should you."

"Jesus, Sookie, you've a boyfriend, what happened to Bill, how is it I'm the last to know?"

"He's not my boyfriend Jason, he's my friend. And if you'd exchanged more than a handful of words with me since Gran died maybe you'd know that."

He blinks rapidly.

"I'm going in the shower. Go make nice with Alcide. I'll be out in a minute."

His mouth opens and as I've currently no interest in whatever he's about to say I close the door in his face.

Oh Gran. I'm sorry. I know he's family but I really can't be bothered with him right now. Please forgive me, I'll do better after a shower, promise.

Washed and dressed I allow myself a moment to gather my poor neglected thoughts, before making my way to the kitchen to see how much trouble Jason's managed to get himself into with my bodyguard. From years of conscious effort I stay out of Jason's head, instead I check out what I'm about to walk into in Alcide's.

He likes Jason, he's deduced that he isn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he likes him. Everyone likes Jason, not just the ladies, he has an easy charm I've always envied.

The two of them continue to talk boy stuff while I shuffle around the kitchen making breakfast. It's not just for them. I'm so hungry I could eat a scabby horse. They're so engrossed in their huntin', shootin' and fishin' stories that they barely acknowledge me when I slide heaped plates of bacon, eggs and pancakes in front of them, nor when I've eaten my own breakfast and take their empty plates away. I smile ruefully to myself as I wash up, if Alcide really was my boyfriend then this would be one of the happiest mornings of my life to date.

But he isn't and this illusion of normality is just that, an illusion.

Abruptly reality crashes down on my head, like the debris of our hotel suite and I excuse myself and retreat to Gran's room, tangling myself up in the comforter on her bed. My eyes rapidly fill with tears which spill over when I realise I can't even name one particular thing that's feeding them, there's so much I don't know where to start and that just has me curling into a tighter ball and crying harder.

At some point Gran's door creaks open for a moment, then closes again with a soft click. Hushed voices confer in the hall and then move away downstairs. Their concern for me is touching but the guilt dries up my tears. I am so much better off than a lot of people. I'm not lying in a hospital bed in terrible pain. I'm not mourning the loss of a loved one in a bombed hotel. I'm just feeling sorry for myself and I've no right.

I realise that the loss of life could have been worse, but even so each loss I am personally aware of claws at me like talons scraping down my back. I know I did what I could, but it wasn't enough. I know that if I'd figured it out sooner it could have been stopped. And I can't help but wonder that if it wasn't for me it might not have happened at all. That's a hard thought to get my head round because I'm nothing and should never be the cause of so much pain, but two of the minds I got into were looking for me, is it possible that anyone would think getting to me was worth so much death and destruction? No, I just can't see it, I didn't even save Godric from the Fellowship, he saved himself for his own reasons, surely no one could hate me so unreasonably for that? But maybe if they hadn't known I'd be there at the hotel they'd have saved their murderous intentions for another time and place. When I wasn't there to do something about it. It's very hard to see myself in the superhero mould, even harder than imagining being the catalyst for such a heinous act.

I sigh and stretch out on the bed, pulling the comforter over me even though I'm not cold. The whole thing is just making my head hurt, the problem is the only other thing I really need to think about is unlikely to work like Tiger Balm.

Eric.

I'm ashamed for myself that I have even less idea where to start processing him than I do much more important things. And worried for myself that he's been nagging at all my other more significant thoughts, plucking at them like a small child tugging on my sleeve.

I've seen so many sides of him this week he's starting to look like a dodecahedron.

And that's it. That's as far down that train of thought as I can go.

Laundry. No one can lie in bed feeling sorry for themselves when they have laundry to do.

The house is empty and filling with evening shadows when I make my way downstairs. Jason's truck is gone but Alcide's is still there, so he must be about somewhere.

With steely determination I unpack my suitcases, hanging the two dresses I slept in on the back of my door with a view to getting some advice on resuscitating them and taking out dress number three with a deep sigh. I really love that dress, such a shame I'll probably never get to wear it. I hang it in my closet with reverence and turn away to gather up everything else and cart it down to the washer.

When I've completed the Stackhouse Penance, scrubbing all the floors, the washer is done and I heave everything into the dryer and start making something for dinner. I'm not hungry but Alcide probably will be.

Or not.

When I reach across for Gran's iron skillet I finally spot the note on the worktop.

'Sookie

Sorry, gone out to patrol the property since we've been away a while.

If you are not up by the time I get back then sorry I've missed you. I have to leave as soon as it gets dark as there is pack business tonight. Don't worry, Thalia will be here promptly as usual so you won't be unguarded and I'll be back at dawn.

I hate leaving you on your own after what just happened but there are some things I have no choice but to do.

Hope you don't mind me leaving the truck?

Alcide'

Oh.

Deflated I put the skillet back and flop down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting my elbows on the table.

Of course. He has a life. One that I'm keeping him from.

Thalia? The scary little vampire with the glossy dark ringlets. She guards me at night? Why didn't anyone tell me? She hates me. Well, she hates all humans, it's not personal, at least I don't think it is.

I'm not sure whether it's southern hospitality or my inability to be alone with my thoughts at the moment that has me scurrying out onto the porch.

"Thalia." I hiss into the newly gathered dark.

"Eek!" I scream as she literally materialises in front of me.

"Yes?" She asks calmly.

"Um." My thoughts are totally distracted by the sword hilt I can see rearing up over her left shoulder.

Following my eyes she reaches back and unsheathes it. It's nearly as big as she is but she handles it like a wisp of hay. I swear I can hear it cutting through the air.

"Japanese steel." She informs me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Is best, very sharp."

"Um. That's nice." I swallow convulsively. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were guarding me at night. I mean, I'm really sorry that you have to. Um. Would you like a synthetic blood, I still have some in the house . . . ."

"Thalia better guard than brown dog. Cannot protect effectively if playing friend."

"Okay. Would you like one 'to go'?"

"No. Thank you. I not like, tastes wrong."

"But um, when do you get to eat if you're following me about all night?"

"Princess really want know?" She asks slyly, cocking her head to one side.

"Um. No. I guess not."

"Congratulate Lafayette on cooking, translates nicely." She smirks, licking her lips.

Oh my god. She doesn't?

"It's not that I'm not grateful but I kinda wish you wouldn't snack on my customers." I whisper.

"They no mind." She shrugs. "Thalia very creative with glamour, enhances thrill of going to Shifter's bar."

Ick.

Crickets are the only sound in the protracted silence that follows.

Thalia tilts her head over to the other side, regarding me curiously and I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"You are very like your Great Grandmother." She observes suddenly in perfect English.

"You knew her?" I gasp, wondering which one she means since I effectively have three.

"I met her once with the Prince. She was his better half I think."

The air whooshes out of my body.

"I will not tell anyone young fairy. I have promised him that your secret is safe with me."

"Eric . . . ." I breathe.

"He will never know unless you tell him. Godric never allowed him to taste fairy out of deference to the Prince."

Relief makes me physically relax and she laughs, like bells tinkling.

"You should consider telling him."

"Are you crazy?" I blurt out, forgetting myself.

"It sad." She drawls, backing away. "That Princess judge book by cover not contents."

"What?"

And, she's gone.

Annoyed I stump back into the house and slam the door behind me, shooting the bolts.

Fine.

If I'm having a night in on my own, then I'm having a night in on my own. Whether I like it or not.

An otherworldly power rips through me even before I've finished crossing the rug, searing me like flames and flinging me to the floor, arms outstretched, fingernails digging into the floorboards . . . .

**EPOV**

I have awoken late this evening.

The rictus of my silent scream not entirely unexpected under the circumstances. My mind curious as to how Dr Ludwig's sleeping draughts have delayed this reaction.

Growling for nobody's benefit but my own I wait for the feeling to subside so that I can think clearly.

So. I am fairly certain I have completed a second bond with her but nothing feels any different. I know where she is. I know she is alive. But I cannot feel anything else.

I sigh. It was a calculated risk. One that has failed but does not appear to have inconvenienced my any further than I have been already. Desperate is an ugly word but it is beginning to describe my consuming need to understand her and the danger she represents to me and mine. Why else would I have attempted to strengthen my bond with her? She is a complex and cunning enemy.

My cell beeps and I snatch it up, finally realising exactly how late I have risen when I see the text is from Pam.

'Eric, the King of Texas is on his way here. I am at a loss. Your presence is required. P x'

'Coming' I text back.

'Oh ha ha. You had better not have left me to deal with this for a floozy . . . .'

Laughing in spite of myself I roll off the bed and stride into the shower. When you live forever joy must be taken wherever you can find it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 24 Crown and Sceptre**

**EPOV**

Stan.

I am not surprised by his visit, his spies must be telling him the same things mine are but I had not expected it to be so soon. Nor am I entirely certain of the outcome.

Pam greets me at the staff entrance, ushering me into my office as she fusses at my suit and straightens my tie. Despite years of practice, and in some cases overly ornate attire, jeans and t-shirts are my clothes of choice for a reason.

Done with me she tidies my desk a little obsessively. I am amused that I am the only one who knows how she behaves when she is nervous.

"Pam, child, relax." I urge her, gripping her flying wrist. "I was expecting this, it is nothing to fear."

"Of course Master." She demurs. "I am merely concerned about showing you in the best light."

Inwardly I sigh. I forget sometimes why she has made such an amazing vampire, she has all the instincts I do. I may not have been able, or had time, to tell her everything but she has already worked much of it out on her own. We are vulnerable with Sophie Anne injured.

"Show him straight here when he arrives." I advise her. "Do not fawn over him, he is not that kind of King."

"As if." She snorts and I pat her cheek.

"If he leaves his entourage in the bar be sure they have a good time."

"Of course Eric. I am British. Our hospitality is legendary."

My laugh of derision follows her out the door and down the hall and I busy myself with my laptop, scrolling through my mail as I process the potential consequences of Stan's visit.

An hour later Pam knocks at my door and ushers him inside. Alone, significant that he is without his bodyguards.

"Eric." He nods, lowering into a chair without being asked.

"Your Majesty." I close my laptop and afford him my full attention.

"There are two issues that bring me here tonight." He begins, eyes daring mine to look away. "I will begin with what I believe is the most pressing if you do not mind?"

My nod is automatic. Godric respected him enough to serve him, I can at least listen to him, especially as he does not, in my experience, waste time or words.

"Sophie Anne will take a long time to recover from her injuries. With Andre as her Regent she might as well be dead. He is vain and foolish."

I do not speak and he does not expect me to.

"Nevada, Philadelphia and Montana have their eyes on your state."

"Alabama and Georgia too." I concede.

"They are of no matter to us." Stan observes disdainfully. "Nevada is a credible threat. Montana is too far away."

"So is Philadelphia."

"Yet he is the only one without his own state."

Silence. In a triumph of hope over experience I had allowed myself to believe Madden was not yet that aggressive. I cannot serve him, he disgusts me.

"I will not allow Philadelphia to have influence so close to my borders." Stan observes.

"My spies have told me as much." I confide.

"If you claim Arkansas and Louisiana I will support you."

No. No, no, no. The world is very large. I will happily traverse it in order to avoid that responsibility.

Stan smiles as if he is already aware of my feelings on the subject, and well he might be if he had Godric's confidence.

"Alternatively I will claim Arkansas and Louisiana if you will support _me_."

I will, but I wonder how this will affect my responsibilities to the non-human.

Stan's pale eyes are boring into mine.

I cannot warn him, there is no caveat emptor for vampire, if he is unknowingly taking on the non-human then I will be grateful.

"The existing Sheriffs?" I ask.

"Will be left in situ although I reserve the right to appoint my own in New Orleans. Sophie Anne's Sheriffs have always been one of the strongest assets of her kingdom. I will require your support to ensure a smooth transition with minimal bloodshed."

He watches my still face for a moment.

"You know me through Godric, Eric. I will not interfere and you will be a valuable asset to me as you were to Sophie Anne, I will not upset the status quo unless my hand is forced."

If I agree I am signing Sophie Anne's death warrant. If I refuse I am exposing me and mine to unacceptable risk. I already know the correct answer but for the sake of etiquette he sits quietly while I pretend to consider my options.

"Might you become a target for the possession on three states?" I ask finally.

"I might." He concedes with a wry smile. "But I am capable of running them all effectively and The Northman will be one of my most trusted Sheriffs, quite the deterrent don't you think?"

Flattery. Even I am susceptible to flattery, Sophie Anne was very good at it.

"I will need your assistance to quell Arkansas, they are ill disciplined."

I nod. That they are, we have had several run ins with them over breaches of our borders, it was one of the reasons Sophie Anne was considering an alliance with Threadgill, to exert some control.

"Do you need more time to consider Eric?" He asks, still smiling.

"No. Very well Your Majesty, for the good of both our states I accept your proposal."

"Excellent. I have a present for you." He chuckles. "To seal whatever deal we struck tonight."

A commotion of vampires barrels down the hall, bursting open my door and throwing a struggling and mewling form at my desk.

Stan steps adroitly out of the way as his two Sheriff's pin their companion to the floor.

I blink.

The Reverend Steve Newlin no less. Newly made vampire.

"One of my Sheriffs found him in Houston. I am afraid he has no idea who his Maker is. But I am delighted to inform you that he has changed his mind about all vampire being expunged from the face of the earth."

"I just bet he has." I chuckle. Our mystery avenger has a sense of humour I can fully get behind it seems.

"Well Eric." Stan sighs happily. "I must be getting back to Dallas, I have work to do. I will leave our new brother to your tender mercies, I am sure you will be able to extract all the information we need."

"Of course Your Majesty. And thank you for trusting me with such an enjoyable task."

Stan laughs.

"Such lovely courtly manners Sheriff, no wonder your Queen is so enamoured of you. If you will show us where The Reverend will be residing we will be on our way."

Several minutes later, with a hysterical Newlin secured in silver in the basement, Pam and I bid Stan and his Sheriffs farewell.

"That's another crown deftly dodged Eric." Pam's voice is amused.

"Thank you." I chuckle, patting her hand. "I am taking the rest of the night off, I have things to do, but I will be in touch later to plan our defences."

Outside I fold my long frame into my Corvette. Now would be the perfect time for the hedonistic self-indulgence I promised myself but instead I set the car toward Bon Temps, where it will surely be destroyed by the travesty that is the non-human's driveway.

Erring on the side of caution I pull off the lane that leads to her house and decide to walk the rest of the way. Thalia is on me in moments.

"Your woman angry."

"She is?"

"Yes. Fell over on rug and broke nail. Is blaming you."

"Me?" I query, surprise evident in my tone.

"Yes. You. Deceitful, liberty taking, jerk. Is waiting for you on porch. Seemed to know you coming."

"This is amusing you." I observe dryly.

She shrugs, feigning disinterest, and blurring away.

Since a second blood exchange has not worked I have decided to take a different approach with the non-human, one that I am hoping I can make work rapidly. Events are moving quickly and I cannot afford to leave the risk she may represent to chance. Since I will not harm her and I cannot control her, I have decided to be nice to her. To pretend I am playing her game.

And having made such a dangerous choice I refuse to sanction myself for the twinge of apprehension I feel as I approach her through the darkness.

She is indeed sitting on the porch, however there is no trace of the snivelling pathetic 'pretend' human who awaited me last time. Even without the bond I fancy I can feel the waves of anger wafting off her and when I deliberately break a twig to let her know I am approaching the blazing blue eyes she raises to mine are worthy of a mythical warrior queen.

My own, personal, demon.

"Sheriff Northman." Her voice is cold and clipped.

"No Eric?" I mock.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" She asks.

"There is nothing I _need_ to tell you." I respond, watching her jaw clenching and unclenching with interest. "However there may be some things I am inclined to. Can you be more specific?"

"Are you deliberately trying to make me angry?" She growls.

"Yes." Might as well be honest.

"Why." More of a demand than a question.

"Your anger amuses me."

She makes a strangled sound that I decide is somewhere between a laugh and growl as I come to a stop a mere foot in front of her so that she has to crane her neck to look up at me. A blatant intimidation tactic.

"I can see up your nose." She observes, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Is it clean?" I reply smoothly, forcing myself not to laugh.

That sound was definitely a snort and I wait, expecting her to get up, uncomfortable with me leaning over her, but she stays seated, glaring up at me.

"Alright." I say softly, squatting down so that our noses are on the same level. "I will bite. What is it you think I should be telling you?"

"When were you planning to tell me that we exchanged blood again?" She huffs. "And you will note that I use the word _we_ with a degree of disdain."

"Noted. How is it exactly that you have come to this conclusion?"

What are you? How do you know? It did not even work . . . .

"Is that some kind of joke?" She snaps. "You know perfectly well how I know. Just because I didn't say anything last time doesn't mean it didn't happen. What is it? Some kind of vampire joke? Was there a candid camera there waiting for me to keel over on my face?"

Thalia's words come back to me and I look down at her hands which are waving erratically, several of the nails have been ripped down to the quick and I know that is painful and unlikely to be done on purpose.

"You will explain to me exactly what happened." I order, my voice darkening.

"Like fuck I will!" She shouts, leaping to her feet, towering over _me_. "You did something to me without my consent and you left me to find out about it the hard way."

I blink in surprise, watching as she charges up the steps and into the house, slamming the door against me. Her bare feet thud dully on the floorboards, a door opens and closes with another slam, bedsprings creak.

"Jerk." She huffs, apparently punching her feather pillow viciously.

I must be nice. We are supposed to be playing her game tonight.

I follow slowly, relieved, when I cross her threshold that she has not rescinded my invitation like she did Compton's. Her scent, delectable, is easy to follow, and I pause outside her boudoir door. Considering a knock, which instinct tells me would be _nice _and just opening it, which will probably make her even less responsive to my questions.

Hating myself I knock.

"What?"

"Should you not withdraw the invitation to enter of a vampire you have cursed at?" I ask. "I merely point that out in the interests of your safety."

"Get bent."

Does she want me to bow when I enter? Strange, but I am willing to attempt it, in the interests of playing her at her own game.

She surveys my hunched over stance with an open mouth as I enter her room, deciding to leave the door open behind me since her fresh clean scent is overpowering in here. She is laying on her front, her face turned toward me, a shotgun beside her, her delicate hand on the stock.

"If you are planning to shoot me it is a little late for that." I point out, looming over her, within easy reach of the weapon. "In more ways than one."

Sitting up she moves it deftly to stand against her bedside table.

"I was cleaning it before you came."

"Silver bullets?" I can smell them, and the gun oil.

"Of course." She blushes for some reason.

"How very prepared of you."

I can almost hear her ligaments straining against her mental command not to flip me the finger. Her bravery, despite her fear, is enticing to me, as I am sure it is meant to be.

"I actually came here to thank you."

"What for?" She genuinely seems surprised.

"Saving my life."

"Oh. Well, no problem. Thanks for choosing to repay me by bonding with me again without my permission."

"I am not denying it." I keep my voice soft and teasing. "But I am very curious as to how you know."

She snorts and I sense that her anger is about to make her close down on me again.

"_Sookie_." I cannot bring myself to lace her name with the saccharin breathiness that Compton does but I have a stab at it anyway. "A proper bond would enable me to protect you better, something you cannot deny you need after the events of this last week. And besides, do not be coy with me, we both know it has not changed anything between us."

She blows out a sweet scented breath and I step back in self-defence.

"I intended to tell you what I had attempted."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Really?" I chuckle. "I could not tell you last night, your eyes were like cashier lines at the bank, constantly closing."

"You could have left me a note."

"Perhaps I would have if I had known there was a reason for it. Will you please tell me what happened to you the last time we exchanged blood, and this evening?"

"You don't know?" She asks with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

"No. I do not. Enlighten me."

After a pause she does and without thinking I drop into the rocking chair in the corner of her room.

"You really didn't know that would happen?"

I shake my head, still searching it for some frame of reference. I knew there was something wrong, no vampire has ever spoken of the blood exchange, the word bond is currently making my redundant sphincter tighten, affecting them the way mine has. And neither has anyone spoken of the human, and I use that word loosely, being blasted with similar power at the same time. It must be something to do with what she is, what is she?

"Eric?" Her voice is low and hesitant.

What are you?

"I'm a frightened waitress, can't you tell?" She fires back.

I surge to my feet, shocked out of my contemplation.

"Oh shit." She moans, edging back onto her bed as if it will defend her.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 25 Stuck on You**

**SPOV**

I had always assumed that not being able to read vampire minds was a good thing. For a start, the relief of being around them without even trying not to hear their thoughts was amazing. As to their reaction if I could I was never sure, would they see me as more useful to them, or would the idea of a lowly human being privy to their secrets be deemed too risky? Bill always alluded to the latter being the case.

Still, despite the fact that I genuinely can't read their minds it looks like I am about to get an answer to that question. Ironic really. It's happened all of three times, every one of them Eric.

He really is very tall I find myself thinking as he towers over my bed. I can see up his nose again, it _is_ clean, for the record.

Silent, immobile, no fang.

"You can read my mind." He says eventually.

"No, not really . . . ."

He swells like a bullfrog . . . .

"Three times." The words spill out in a rush. "It's happened three times, by accident, I just catch a snippet of something . . . ."

"Who?" He demands.

I sigh in defeat, there are worse secrets he could uncover.

"You. It's always you."

His eyes narrow to glittering slits.

"The first time, I caught a bit of what you were thinking when Long Shadow attacked me."

He's silent for a moment, probably trying to recall what it was. I can remember it easily because all he was thinking was 'no'.

"And?"

"The second time was in your office, before we bonded, you, um, didn't want to do it."

He growls deep in his chest but then abruptly drops back into the chair which groans in protest.

"And you just heard me wondering what you are." It's a statement, not a question but I nod anyway.

"It is a perfectly valid question." He observes reasonably. "Perhaps you would care to answer it?"

"I'm just a waitress with a disability Eric. Exactly what you see."

"You have no idea what I see Ms Stackhouse."

If he's expecting a response to that I don't have one.

"I see a woman with the non-human gift of being able to read minds. One who my Queen was interested enough in to send a specialist to seduce, hoping to gain her loyalty rather than just her servitude.

I see a woman who was allegedly able to make a perfectly sensible vampire fall in love with her.

I see a woman who cannot be glamoured.

I see _my_ twice bonded 'human', yet I cannot access her emotions nor influence her in any way.

I see a liar who can read my mind."

"I can't . . . ."

He talks over my objection as if I hadn't attempted it.

"I see a woman for whom I have been threatened with the true death.

I see a woman who _almost_ prevented the hotel bombing which maimed and weakened my Queen and will now result in her final death and the potentially lethal takeover of my state.

I do not see a _waitress_ Ms Stackhouse and certainly not a disabled one. I see a beautiful woman with dangerous secrets, concealed abilities and unknown associations. I see _wiles_."

But I'm just me. The diluted blood in my veins doesn't change who I am yet I can suddenly see how the secret of it is shaping his reactions to me. My throat works but there are no words to come out of it.

"I too experienced a painful and unprecedented reaction after each time we exchanged blood, I know you are more than you claim to be."

"Eric . . . ."

"The Queen was severely injured in the bombing." He observes flatly, abruptly changing direction. "It will take her many months to heal. In the meantime Andre will rule in her stead. The King of Arkansas met his true death and now neither of our states has an effective leader.

Nature and vampire abhor a vacuum Ms Stackhouse. We will be attacked and taken over by another monarch. Many could lose their lives, even me."

I suck in a breath.

"You are intelligent. Surely you can work out why I consider you a threat to me and those who owe me fealty? Why I can no longer countenance your withholding information from me? Why I do not trust you?"

"Eric, I'm not . . . ."

His palm is up in an instant.

"No more lies Ms Stackhouse. Have you heard of the expression 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'?"

"Yes."

"Excellent." He drawls in a passable impression of Monty Burns, tented fingers and all. "Then what is about to happen will not come as too much of a shock to you."

…..

I have to hand it to him. For a kidnapper he's big on explanations. And remarkably gentle.

Not that he needed to apply much force. Giant Viking. Tiny woman.

If I hadn't been so furious I might have laughed at the mental image of him finally losing patience with my objections and lugging me down my own driveway, thrown over his shoulder in a now familiar way, his free hand carrying my suitcase. I guess it must have looked kind of funny and I should forgive Thalia for laughing so hard the weight of her enormous sword nearly toppled her on her face.

My ire cooled quickly once he had me ensconced in his Corvette, it's always difficult to fault Eric's logic, especially when he's not obliged to supply it. I've always appreciated that about him, he's a powerful vampire and often behaves like one, but unlike Bill he doesn't treat me like I'm too stupid or too unimportant to know at least something about what's going on.

In fact by the time we reached Fangtasia I was starting to wonder if he could control me after all, so reasonable did everything he said sound the second time around.

I can, unfortunately, completely see why he doesn't trust me. I can understand why the situation with the Queen is so dire and how we are all in a great deal of danger. Or more danger, I haven't forgotten Bill's words. This doesn't make the fact the he isn't going to let me out of his sight until he gets the truth any more palatable, it just makes staying mad at him for it slightly harder. Not that I won't give it a good go, as a matter of principle.

I will be staying with him in his safe houses, he has many, though I won't be allowed to know where they are. The depth of his distrust is boundless, I will not be allowed out during the day. I balked at that until he explained that under the circumstances expecting Alcide to be able to protect me when a takeover was underway was tantamount to pulling the trigger myself, and running about on my own just rank stupidity. Once he rises either he or someone he _does_ trust implicitly will be with me at all times. That list contains only Pam and Thalia, which is kinda sad. He is going to be busy. I am a burden. One that could turn on him at any moment yet make it all go away by telling him what I am and who I am in league with.

Its lunacy and he's seriously paranoid. But somehow I understand his current actions, admire him for his concern about the wellbeing of his people and maybe, feel a little sorry for him and inclined to do something if I can to help. Perhaps, if I go along with this, at least for now, I can persuade him that I'm no threat to him without revealing my heritage. It's the pronounced 'v' between his eyebrows, it's wrong on him, and I'm such a soft touch I should probably have a protective cover, like Sam's iPhone.

To my disappointment Eric opts to use the front door of the club and I am forced to endure the thoughts of the Fangbangers until I can get control of my shields.

_. . . . she can't be his girlfriend, she doesn't even have any fang marks . . . . ._

_. . . . here he comes, sex on a stick . . . . _

_. . . . she wouldn't look so smug is she knew what he did to me last week . . . . _

Ick. That's disgusting. I do _not_ need to see Eric's 'cum face' while some slut gives him a mediocre blow job.

"What have you heard?" He demands, aware of my steps faltering beside him.

"Have you actually got any customers you haven't slept with?" I huff in annoyance.

"A few." He smirks. "Do their memories of my prowess cause you issues with your frigidity?"

Rolling my eyes I stomp ahead of him.

"Good evening Sookie." Pam greets me cordially at the door. "What a fetching jacket, did you mug a homeless person?"

"Why yes I did Pam, thanks for noticing."

"Master." She bows slightly to Eric. "I have tended to our guest as instructed."

"Thank you Pam."

She nods, winking at me and turning to the next customer.

"Oh look." I hear her drawl as Eric guides me away. "Black leather and cleavage, what a wicked and unusual imagination you have."

The club is packed with people drinking, dancing and generally having a great time but as usual Eric's presence draws everyone's attention and I pull my shields tighter in self defence against the mental uproar.

Eric gestures to Ginger, the head waitress, who throws me a megawatt smile and zooms off to get me a gin and tonic to go with Eric's customary bottled blood, bringing it over to the booth in the back that is always kept free for his use.

I sip my drink gratefully, using it as a distraction so I can think in peace about what all this actually means, avoiding his speculative glances as his 'people' queue up to pay their respects and exchange chit chat on what happened in Rhodes.

He's confused me tonight, I'll be honest.

I should be screaming for help at the top of my lungs yet I can't exactly say I'm here against my will. Do I want to be here? Where else would I be, at home painting my toenails? Fretting? Ignorant? I could be chained up in the dungeon I'm sure he has. Hell, I could be chained up in someone else's dungeon. I could be dead. Or sold. I'm really not right in the head . . . .

I don't understand it and I can't explain it, but I still, despite everything, feel safe with Eric.

I thank Ginger when she places another gin based distraction in front of me, stirring the ice idly, desperately trying to get all my thoughts in order, glancing covertly at the conundrum that is Eric from time to time. The 'v' is gone and he looks as relaxed and in control as he ever does.

Or does he?

Maybe I'm drunk but his eyes look tight, his body language too controlled, I remember the way he lounged against the bar in Rhodes, drinking synthetic blood like beer, bantering with his colleague . . . .

I push my drink away. There is something seriously wrong with me. I remember the feel of his body wrapped around mine. I remember the feel of his mouth on mine. It warms and repulses me. I'm a kidnap victim for Christ's sake, this isn't a trashy romance novel, and it's way too early to get Stockholm Syndrome . . . . Poor Eric my ass . . . . I need to channel my inner Stackhouse . . . . I need to seriously think about telling him what I am . . . . Niall said I shouldn't but he's not vampires, he's Eric . . . . and Niall did say I should use my head . . . .

"There is someone here I would like you to meet."

His voice startles me out of my revere.

"There is?" I respond stupidly, realising that the club is almost empty and my eyes are almost closed.

"If you can stay awake?" He asks with apparent amusement.

"How is it that my human proclivity to get tired and fall asleep amuses you, yet you still suspect me of all manner of crimes, including not being human?" I growl, hauling myself upright and rubbing my dry scratchy eyes.

"Humph." Is his only response as he stands and offers me his hand.

Ignoring it I scramble to my feet and sway slightly on the spot, just to amuse him some more.

Pam joins us.

"We are going to talk to our guest." Eric informs her.

Her eyebrows shoot up for a moment before she schools her features again.

"Very well Eric. Will you require my assistance?"

"No Pam, please close up and then enjoy the rest of your night. I will see to securing the building when we are done."

Like a blur she whirls away, chivvying humans and vampires toward the door.

"This way." Eric orders, striding toward the back of the bar.

My brain's still too woolly to really wonder what this is all about so I trot after him like an obedient little lamb, following him through the door behind the bar and into a dimly lit corridor that I would have assumed was a storeroom if he hadn't palmed something on the back wall, making it swing open with a movie quality hiss.

Still not thinking I follow him down the concrete steps into the darkness, stumbling and falling forward, throwing my palm up onto this broad back to save myself. He leaps ahead like a scalded cat and I almost fall flat on my face but manage to find the cold clammy concrete wall to save myself instead.

Ha! I'm your human, you shouldn't jump when I touch you.

The dark stairs curve and then there's just enough light to see where I am.

Oh shit, I _am_ naïve, he really does have a dungeon, and I've just walked right into it . . . .


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 26 Dungeons and Dragons**

**EPOV**

"Eric . . . ."

Her soft quavery voice grates on me, but I need to know, no matter how far-fetched it seems, that she was not working with the Fellowship. The deaths of the bombers before they could be questioned, the fact that they knew her, were looking for her, that she _almost_ averted the bombing completely. Godric's loss . . . .

The shape of her warm palm is still burning my back, feeling like a cattle brand on my skin.

As her eyes become accustomed to the low light she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Newlin." She gasps, spotting the form straining against the chains on the wall. "He's a vampire."

"Yes."

"How?"

"I do not know. I am hoping you can tell me. The King of Texas found him in Houston."

"Why?" She demands, darting forward, oblivious to the way he is struggling to reach her, deaf to his ferocious snarls as the scent of her blood drives him wild. "Why would you do that? All those innocent people? And you think vampires are monsters!"

I watch in fascination as she stalks across the bare concrete floor toward him, every bit the warrior queen I met earlier this evening, her fury mounting. I do not think that she has even registered that the slavering beast chained to my basement wall is beyond responding coherently to her words.

"You're a murder! All those people . . . ." Her voice chokes for a second and I wonder what it must have been like for her, I know she helped with the rescue attempt, I am no stranger to death but in fairness I have never had to 'hear' it happening to anyone. ". . . . I'm not sure whether to be sorry or glad someone's made you a vampire. But since you are I hope you suffer forever! God's forgiveness is too good for you . . . ."

Apparently she has a lot to get off her chest and her words pour down on him like monsoon rain, but when she steps closer and reaches out as if to slap him I pull her back into my chest sharply, he is dangerous, he hasn't fed and Pam has been draining his blood.

Her eyes meet mine and I'm struck by how big and round they are when she is in the grip of a strong emotion. Her heart is hammering against me. Her soft lips are parted and I am bitterly regretting the compulsion that made me kiss her in Rhodes, if I had not done so I would not be so tempted now . . . . And I am currently not too happy about my plan to keep her close to me and push her until she makes a mistake . . . . There is a risk that it will be me that makes the mistake . . . .

"Want her . . . . need her." Newlin hisses, breaking the spell.

Stepping back I pull her with me and then release her.

"He is thirsty and too new to be in control." I warn her. "Do not get so close to him."

The anger seems to have left and she takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Did I just threaten to stake him?" She asks, inspecting her sneakered feet.

"Yes."

"Total personality bypass Stackhouse." She mutters, shaking her head to clear it.

Then she fixes me with her blue gaze.

"Why did you bring me down here?"

"I want you to read him."

"I can't." She responds immediately, holding my eyes and apparently willing me to believe her. "He's a vampire, Eric, I told you the truth. I can't control it, it just happens, and it was only ever . . . ."

Me.

"You have heard his mind before?"

"Yes, I think so, I think he was at the Church that night, with Godric and I."

"Then perhaps you can still read him?" I have theories about her gift, on the assumption that she is not lying and has not always been able to hear vampire.

"How? He's just a void, same as the rest of you."

"He is very new, some of his humanity still remains."

She looks him over doubtfully and I cannot blame her, he does not look very human at the moment and he was a poor excuse for one in the first place.

"I don't want to know what he's thinking." She says with a shudder.

"But I do Ms Stackhouse. Vampire were killed and seriously injured. Humans and weres too." I add for her benefit. "The bombers were executed and he was made vampire in the space of mere hours. I need to know why and by whom. "

"Why?"

"Because I have been given the responsibility by a counsel of the monarchs. Because this state is about to be taken over as a result of the bombing. Because I need to understand what danger this represents. And because I say so."

"Don't you have other ways of finding out?"

"Of course. I will torture him, would you like to assist me?"

"No." She says quickly, returning to the examination of her sneakers.

"I am short on time." I confess. "Getting the information you need through torture can be hit and miss. You reading his mind will be much quicker."

She shudders again and I smile at the top of her head. I imagine she is wondering, as I intended, if I will use torture to learn her secrets.

Eventually her head comes back up and I can see a decision has been reached by the determined set of her jaw.

"I'll need to touch him, if I'm going to try."

"Do not move." I order, using my speed to secure his body tightly to the wall, punching him negligently in the jaw when the fool tries to sink his fangs into me.

She blows out a resigned breath when I come to a stop in front of her again.

"This isn't going to work." She informs me and I shrug lightly.

I have stretched one of his arms out straight and she moves toward his hand, keeping well out of his way and he squirms against his restraints and hurls obscenities at us both.

Tentatively she reaches out to touch her fingertips to the back of his hand and I step closer to him, leaning down into his face and letting my fangs run out as a warning for him to behave.

She closes her eyes and scrunches up her face, concentrating.

"Can you hear him?"

"No." She huffs. "But I can hear _you_, stop talking."

With another huff she opens her palm, laying it flat over his hand.

"Ask him something." She suggests.

"Who made you vampire?"

"Nothing." She responds.

"You will try harder." I insist.

"That's not what I meant. There's nothing. He doesn't know, he must have been unconscious or something."

"How were you made vampire?" I ask Newlin, leaning in further.

"He was eating dinner, with a woman? His wife I guess . . . . the window shattered . . . . there was lots of screaming, someone grabbed him. Its all jumbled and blurred, kind of playing round on a loop."

"You cannot find out more?"

"No. He's like a radio that keeps losing the station. There's either a void or this jarred stuff from when he was taken."

"He must have seen something." I push. "Who took you Newlin?"

She gasps, jumping back from him.

"What is the matter?" I ask, turning to her.

"Nothing." She mutters, shaking her hand as if it's been stung. "I'm just not used to someone visualising my death in quite such graphic detail."

"He cannot harm you now." I point out.

She just looks at me.

"Sookie, please, I need to know what he knows."

"He doesn't know anything Eric." She sighs sadly. "He's just a monster who going to get what's coming to him. All he can think about is fucking me while he drains me. Torture him, I don't care."

And she turns away from me, wrapping her arms around her middle, shrinking in on herself.

Furious I rip one of Newlin's new fangs out, smiling at his scream of agony and flinging it across the room as I take his face in my hand.

"I will be back." I promise him, squeezing his jaw until the bone starts to crack. "And you will tell me everything I want to know."

I brought her down here to see if there was any connection between them. I brought her down here as it seemed to be the perfect opportunity to pressure her over her ability to read vampire minds. And I brought her down here because I wanted to frighten her.

I did not see any evidence that she and Newlin know each other. Her partial ability to read him proves nothing. And I have done something other than frighten her I realise as I turn back to face her.

"Come." I place my hand in front of her where she can see it, blinking in surprise when she takes it so I can lead her out of the basement and secure it behind us.

She is totally compliant, not a good sign in my experience, as I lock up the club and load her into the Corvette.

Ah, my baby. This will be the last time I drive it for a while, it is too conspicuous.

She doesn't stir when I pull into the lot of an all-night store.

"You will need supplies."

"Huh?" She is practically asleep again.

"Food?"

"I guess." She murmurs, pulling herself together. "Do you have anything I can cook with?"

"It is unlikely." I confess.

"Coffee?"

I shake my head, supressing my smile as her face darkens.

"I will not be held hostage without coffee Eric." She growls. "It's banned under the Geneva Convention or something."

As we head back to the car I wonder if I have allowed her to spend too much time with my child, the coffee maker cost much more than a human could make in a month when I first came to America.

By the time we reach the safe house I have chosen for the night she is asleep.

I carry her purchases in first. Most of my houses have a secure underground area for my day time rest, this one has two which is why I have selected tonight. Quickly I clear out the refrigerator I usually use for blood and stock it with her food, I am assuming the coffee maker itself does not need to be cooled. Then I transfer everything _I_ might need to what is normally my separate guest 'room'. Next I grab her suitcase, placing it beside the bed.

Still able to hear her steady breathing I pause, running my hand through my hair. Though I do not need to breathe my chest feels constricted. There are so many dangers and complications I barely know where to start and yet the current situation is not as dire as some I have faced in the past. I am at a loss to understand what is different but I do not like it. If only I could speak with Godric . . . .

Her breathing changes and I hear movement, cursing myself for my stupidity I dart back outside only to find her fidgeting restlessly in the Corvette's bucket seat but still fast asleep. I had better get her inside before she starts drooling on the leather in that curious way slumbering humans have.

Her eyes flutter open as I lay her out on the bed.

"You are always putting me to bed." She murmurs.

"So it would seem." I chuckle. "And yet I get nothing in return for such chivalry."

"I miss old Eric." She sighs, rolling away from me and curling into a ball.

Shaking my head I leave her to it, shutting the door and setting the security code behind me before collecting my own belongings from the car. I have an hour or so until dawn and many calls I still need to make. The situation is still very fluid, Stan may have committed to a course of action but there is still a risk that someone else might act before he is ready, I cannot afford to let my guard down and I do not trust that 'child' Andre to be in control of everything at a time like this. I do not even know if the danger of a takeover has occurred to him, he certainly has not seen fit to communicate with me if it has. What I do know is that if it comes from a hostile state I will quite possibly be the first target.

Several hours later the pull of the sun is becoming too much for me to resist and I shut down my laptop and stretch out on the bed, my thoughts, as is often the case now, consumed with the non-human. There is nothing about her to suggest she is an evil genius or a hostile agent, to all intents and purposes she appears to be everything she claims, and therein lies an ability to deceive I can admire. Because I know it is a lie. I read the report on her and I made the time to glamour her imbecile of a brother and a few of her friends. They all confirm the 'official' story. Yet I know she is not human, that she has been bound to me by someone with power I cannot comprehend.

And by Godric. I must have faith in our relationship, our bond with each other. Father, Brother, Son. That he would not have allowed this to be done to me without good reason . . . . . But it is hard, I cannot visualise it and it goes against everything he taught me . . . . And he is not here to explain . . . . I am alone . . . . Alone enough to admit that she frightens me . . . . This woman who saved my life . . . .


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 27 Guilt Trip**

**SPOV**

The cold wakes me up and with total disregard for the fact I'm fully clothed, again, I wrap the bedclothes tightly round me, inhaling that certain 'eau de Eric' I'm becoming used to, willing myself back into the dream world.

But it's not happening.

Because of Niall.

I can wriggle and squirm and convince myself I didn't entirely lie to Eric till the cows come home, Newlin _was_ thinking about literally fucking me to death, but I can't make it stick.

When Eric asked Newlin who took him he had a Kodak moment.

My Great Grandfather. The one who looks like an underwear model and talks like Methuselah. The one who is even more terrifying than Eric when he interrupts a quiet dinner with your wife by bursting through the window, wielding a blood stained sword and promising to teach you a lesson you'll never forget.

With a martyred sigh I roll onto my back, recognising that I'm going to have to give it my attention if I don't want the nausea of guilt to keep me awake for the rest of the night, or day, or whatever.

I didn't know what to do or what to say. I didn't know what was _right_ and I've always kinda prided myself on knowing what's right.

I always knew Niall wasn't exactly everyone's idea of a cuddly Great Grandfather, jeez, what was the clue Stackhouse? I got the impression that he was probably a powerful man in his own way, it rolls off him in the same way it does Eric, and I suppose if I'd been pressed I would have been forced to admit that by extension he probably was more than the charming eccentric he plays. But of course nobody forced me so I was even able to ignore the fact that he's been referred to as a Prince more than once too. Let us not, currently, acknowledge the existence of the word 'Princess'.

How do I feel about the fact that he apparently kidnapped Newlin and turned him into a vampire?

Conflicted. It's actually quite fitting in a sick way.

I lied to Eric.

Funny how I've not felt like I'm lying to him until now. I have good reasons for hiding my heritage.

He said please. He meant it. He really does think he needs to know who made Newlin a vampire and perhaps he does if the Kings and Queens are expecting it. Yet despite my resolve to help I didn't tell him.

Would it help if he knew?

'Yeah, Eric, I know the guy who took Newlin. He's a fairy, goes by the name of Niall.

How do you know this Ms Stackhouse?

He's my Great Grandfather.'

I've no idea if it would help Eric but I can't see a way it would help me.

But would it help Eric?

I don't know.

I roll over, punching the pillow.

Some random fairy kidnapped the Reverend Steve Newlin and made him a vampire, don't ask me how, my supernatural crash course didn't include that particular lesson. Does that in any way endanger Eric?

I can't see how. It's more my problem, as in I don't know my own kin very well.

That hardly makes me guilty of anything.

Except hiding something that may be important to Eric, a man who is fighting enough shadowy battles as it is.

Well why the hell should I care? He's holding me hostage. He made me leave my cell at home and he hasn't even left me with a clock so I can tell what time it is. He's a jerk.

He only trusts two people. Pam and Thalia. And Thalia knows more about me than he does.

I punch the pillow, and give it a thorough shake for good measure, but it still won't forgive me or let me get comfortable enough to sleep.

What if I get him and the people he cares about killed because I won't tell him what I am or what I know, though it doesn't seem much? What if I salve my conscious by at least describing Niall and I get _him_ killed?

I'm trapped I realise, remembering Gran's words. Oh! What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. She used to mainly aim them at Jason but in my head now it feels like she was wagging her finger at me all along.

If only he hadn't said please. Stupid word. It's not like he would have meant it.

Argh!

I'm hungry.

Trying to get up I engage in a brief but ultimately victorious struggle with the covers I've wrapped myself in. Problem one solved. Problem two is that I can't see my hand in front of my face, if in fact my waving hand is actually in front of my face. Ouch. Yes, it is. Reaching out I finally find the edge of the bed and what feels like a bedside table. Several attempts later I find a wire which I can follow to a switch and the room is flooded with mellow light.

I'm perched on a bed of the richest brown adrift in a wash of the most varied blues I have ever seen. It doesn't make any kind of sartorial sense yet the effect immediately calls to mind being afloat on a calm sea. The only furniture, the bed and side tables, is of a polished wood that glows with a life of its own and begs to be touched. So I do. Cool and smooth but regrettably not edible.

There are two doors, one on either side of the room. One has a flashing red light next to it which I instinctively know is advertising my incarceration and the other is slightly ajar.

Being a Stackhouse I try the one with the light first. It beeps at me and the light flashes angrily. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. In the spirit of investigation I play with the keypad for a while but the door neither gets any angrier nor lets me out. With a sigh I turn away. I should be much more annoyed about this than I am.

The other door leads to a short corridor where a soft light comes on as soon as I swing it open. There are three more doors leading off it. Door number one is an opulent bathroom, revealed by another automatic light. Door number two is a closet bigger than my own bedroom and filled with neat rows and stacks of very Eric attire. Door number three leads to an Aladdin's cave. A leather sofa, crammed bookshelves, a desk, the biggest wall mounted flat screen I've ever seen and an array of technical equipment that screams boy, makes my head hurt and has me inexplicably missing Jason.

On the low unit under the flat screen is a very expensive looking iPod docking station and the coffee maker we bought last night.

My addiction immediately kicks into gear and I hurry toward it, ripping it out of its packaging and setting it up with fervid reverence, finally realising that I'm just being tortured without the actual coffee. Annoyed I start opening and closing subtly concealed cupboards until I hit paydirt, the refrigerator, all my shopping is in there and with a silent thank you to Eric I start the coffee maker while I pull together a dirty sandwich. I don't know if its breakfast time or tea time but I'm having cheese anyway . . . .

Done with my 'meal' and supplied with fresh coffee I turn my attention to the three remotes lined up on the desk and by dint of much pressing and cursing I eventually get the flat screen to jump into life.

A twenty four hour news channel. Reporting the disappearance of Steve Newlin, the bombing of the hotel in Rhodes and the subsequent bombings of several vampire owned businesses across the US. Drawing an obvious link in the way twenty four hour news channels are apt to do, with all the usual suspects given their air time. I must admit that Nan Flannigan, the AVL spokeswoman, has always fascinated me, but now I'm finding her as annoyingly disingenuous as any other politician. I suspect they aren't telling me the real truth. I _know_ she isn't.

What happens if anyone other than a vampire finds Newlin chained up in Eric's basement? What happens if he gets loose?

What's Niall up to? If I had my cell I'd call him. And if I were Eric I'd stake Newlin and bury the sludge in the deepest pit I could find.

"What has you so worked up?" Eric asks from the doorway, making me jump and nearly spill coffee all down myself.

Really?

He's wearing nothing but a loose pair of pj bottoms and the worst case of bed hair I've ever seen.

He's just . . . . perfect . . . . I've never seen anything like it . . . . the fangbanger's memories really don't do him justice . . . .

Oh god I'm staring, and unfortunately I catch a glimpse of the smirk forming on his face as I look away, I swear I can feel his amusement at my girlie weakness.

I turn my attention and pointing finger to the flat screen where the news anchor is pontificating.

"Why did Stan bring Newlin to you?" I ask.

"I am charged with finding out who killed the bombers."

"The Reverend didn't though did he?"

"There would not have been time." He answers, scratching idly at his _incredibly_ beautiful abs and nearly de-railing my chain of thought.

"The King of Texas was responsible for locating Newlin who had already disappeared." He continues, pushing his hair back from his face in a curiously human gesture. "We both suspected that ultimately we would be looking for the same thing."

"Makes sense." I allow. "But if I could drag your attention back to the news for a moment it would seem that 'Ground Zero' is currently stashed in your basement."

He darts forward in a blur, grabbing one of the remotes and flicking through the news channels like a vampire possessed.

I sidle past him to refill my coffee. The back view ain't bad either. Buns of steel, was that Superman or a workout video . . . .

"Fuck." He grinds out as I sink back into the couch, wrapping both hands around my steaming mug.

And, then he's gone, the door rebounding from the wall with an echoey thud.

I hope he's come to the same conclusion I have. Being caught with the newly vamped Newlin is not going to be conducive to anyone's health.

In the ensuing quiet I remember that I am still in the same clothes I slept in and my attention turns to the bathroom. I don't know why I'm suddenly embarrassed about the prosaic business of taking a shower but it seems too intimate, somehow, with Eric around . . . .

No. I'm itchy and scratchy. It's got to be done. But I won't be wandering around in a towel, I'll need to take everything I need in with me.

…..

When I return to what I have decided to dub 'The Little Boys Room' Eric is fully clothed and seated behind his desk.

He looks up, glaring at me. Great, the night's off to a good start . . . .

"Thank you." He says stiffly and unexpectedly.

I shrug and perch on the edge of his couch, pretending to be absorbed in the muted news story on the screen about rising food prices. It's not like I did much, he'd have come to the same conclusion himself as soon as he'd seen the news.

"We have to leave for Fangtasia in a few minutes, I have many meetings to get through this evening and I will require your assistance keeping an eye on the minds of the customers."

I nod.

"Do you have any needs before we leave? Food?"

"I've eaten thanks." I narrow my eyes at him, trying to gauge his mood. "I'll need to call people, Sam and Jason at least, I can't just disappear."

He raises his eyebrow at me but I refuse to look away.

"I'm not going to tell them you kidnapped me if that's what you're thinking but they need to know I'm okay."

"Have I kidnapped you?" He asks, watching me intently.

"The jury is currently out." I admit, reluctantly but honestly.

…..

It's still early when we get to the club and the doors have only just opened.

The clientele are nothing like I've come to expect. To call them normal seems a bit rude but that's what they are. Tourists who just want to be able to say they've been to a vampire bar. One or two drinks and they're on their way, amazed at their own bravery.

Eric saw me to his booth and then left immediately.

Ginger's been keeping me supplied with water and Thalia's been watching me like a hawk from the other side of the bar.

Gradually more and more vampires are coming in and eventually there's a point when they outnumber the humans, but it doesn't last long. As time passes and the tourists flee, the place is filling up rapidly with the fangbangers I've come to know and despise.

Eric asked me to read the customers so I am.

Sex. Being bitten. Some unbelievably misplaced desires for romance and adventure. Eric. Pam. Me. Sex.

_. . . . she's here again, maybe the rumours are true . . . ._

_. . . . I swear if she keeps dragging me here I'm gonna make that date with Boring Bella, I'm sure this whole vampire thing is a ruse to pack the bar . . . ._

_. . . . I hope he's here, I hope he's here . . . ._

Pam's supplied me with a pad and pen to jot down anything interesting that I hear, since I'm under strict instructions not to disturb the vampires for anything short of an emergency, but so far all I've done is draw a couple of cartoons.

I called Sam and Jason from Eric's cell on the way here. Jason wasn't fussed that I was going to be away for a few days but Sam was predictably tight lipped and I wouldn't be surprised to turn up at the bar for a shift one day to discover I've been fired.

Vampires are coming and going from Eric's office, all of them looking tenser on the return journey than they did on the way in. About half of them are leaving afterwards but the others are arrayed around the club, looking so much like they are expecting trouble I can't believe the humans haven't noticed. They are a curiously unobservant bunch when in pursuit of their own pleasures.

Needing a change of scenery I decide I've drunk enough water to qualify for a comfort break.

In self-defence I pull my shields tight as rampant curiosity breaks around me like a wave on a beach. I don't know why they find me so fascinating or why they're so jealous when I'm clearly nothing more than one of Eric's human employees.

Anyway, the shields are the reason I only realise the club is about to be surrounded by cops and voids when I settle back into the booth a few minutes later. I'm a lousy employee . . . .


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 28 He is Eric**

**SPOV**

Cursing I leap to my feet, hurrying through the throng toward the back and Eric's office, unsurprised when Thalia materialises at my shoulder, I know she's been keeping an eye on me all night.

I knock on Eric's door and then shove it open.

The vampires immediately stop talking and turn their attention to me with varying degrees of outrage.

Eric merely raises an eyebrow.

"Master, I apologise, if I may speak with you please?"

Ugh.

Eric rises fluidly and shoos me out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning down so I can whisper in his ear.

"We're about to be raided." I tell him urgently. "They're looking for Newlin and there are vampires with them."

"Stay here." He orders, returning to his office and presumably telling the others what's about to happen. In mere moments I plaster myself against the wall as the vampires blur past, Pam pausing to favour me with a fangy smile of what I can only assume is approval.

Thalia's gone too, leaving me alone in the hallway with Eric who draws me into his office and shuts the door firmly.

"He is gone." He murmurs, leading me across to the couch and indicating I should sit. "If you are able I would very much like to find out who has sent them here."

I nod.

"Relax." He suggests sensibly, settling himself behind his desk and lifting the lid of his laptop.

You relax, I've horrible feeling I'm about to lie to a policeman, we have laws about that sort of thing.

"So Ms Stackhouse." He says suddenly and a little loudly. "We will do the meeting with the development company of the 14th, if that is agreeable to you?"

"Um, yes?"

"Great." He closes the laptop lid with a click. "Then we have concluded our business here for the night. Shall we adjourn to my booth for a drink?"

He gets up and offers me his hand, and finally realising we're playing to an audience with supernatural hearing I take it and allow him to walk me back out to our booth. It also dawns on me that now might be one of those situations when being able to feel each other is a bonus, so I open the bond, feeling his surprised approval and the unexpected squeeze of his hand. A little too hard for a mere human – fairy hybrid, but a surprising gesture none the less, even if he can feel how anxious I am.

He's still radiating calm confidence as Ginger supplies us both with drinks and it doesn't slip for a moment as a bunch of cops and four vampires in black combat gear effectively storm the bar in a way definitely designed to frighten the contents.

Eric's lips quirk into a smile as unnecessary panic erupts around us and the human police make a great show of restoring order.

"May I speak with the owner of the bar?" The head cop asks loudly, casting his eyes around. "Eric Northman?"

"I am Eric Northman." Eric responds, gliding to his feet. "How may I help you?"

"Mr Northman, my name is Captain Henshaw, I have a warrant here to search your premises."

"So you have." Eric drawls, glancing at it as the man advances and hands it over. "May I ask what you are looking for?"

"Mr Northman we have reason to believe that the Reverend Steve Newlin, a suspect in a recent crime, is being held in your bar against his consent."

"Alright." Eric shrugs. "Although I would not call the bombing a crime, more of an obscenity."

I tune out as the cop continues to talk with Eric, ignoring the vampires who have taken up station in the four corners of the bar, focussing instead on the human minds.

They're really expecting to find Newlin here, possibly unlawfully vamped, but I can't work out why, there are only the fresh memories of their briefing at the station as they take down the names and addresses of the customers.

It seems to take forever, the bar eerie without the thumping music I'm accustomed to.

Finally it's my turn.

"Name?"

"Sookie Stackhouse."

_. . . . bingo . . . ._

"Address?"

I tell him, like he doesn't already know.

"Your reason for being here?"

"I belong to Eric Northman."

His head snaps up and I fight back my smirk at Eric's reaction.

"Excuse me?" He asks, while I delve through his mind some more.

"I belong to Eric Northman, I am his human."

"Um, Miss, slavery is illegal in this country."

"I didn't say I was a slave Officer, I merely said I was Eric's."

His mind is alive with the possibilities and I'm unsurprised that most of them are dirty, though I am surprised to find his reason for being interested in in the first place.

"Miss." His voice drops to a low whisper. "If you are here against your will . . . ."

"I'm not." I assure him as Eric comes to stand beside me. "I am perfectly happy being Eric's human, perhaps you would be so kind as to tell Mr Compton that when you see him again."

The human blinks and I push further into his mind, undoing Bill's glamour and instructions easily. He shakes his head as if to clear it and wanders off to get Ginger's details.

"I am assuming." Eric drawls. "That you will be explaining this to me later?"

"You assume correctly." I inform him crisply, somewhat pleased with myself.

"Mr Northman. We are ready to begin the search now."

"Of course." Eric nods politely. "I am sure you have no objections if my 'assistant' accompanies me?"

"None at all Sir."

"Sookie. Come."

I feel annoyed. And then I feel his amusement at my annoyance. Jerk. And then he takes my hand again and I don't know what to feel.

They trash the shop housing all the merchandise. Then the stockroom, the employee lounge, Pam's office and finally Eric's. Every cupboard and wall is assaulted and all the false ceilings are brought down, the dust is making me cough. And then they ask if he has a hidden basement.

"Of course." Eric responds. "I am vampire, naturally I have a secret lair."

I can feel myself tensing up as he leads us back around the bar and into the hallway with the hidden door. This time he flicks a switch and floods the stairwell with harsh white light.

We all file down into the completely empty space.

"What do you use it for?" Henshaw asks, turning in a slow circle as his officers poke and prod the walls.

"Entertaining?" Eric chuckles. "I occasionally use it for just what you humans would expect. Some women find it exciting."

Henshaw is sceptical, thinking it doesn't look much like a sex dungeon.

"But mostly I just use it for additional storage."

"You're not using it now?"

"No. I have been away on business, as I am sure you know, the stock has run down somewhat in my absence."

Henshaw huffs.

"Will there be anything else?" Eric asks.

"Not for the moment Mr Northman. I see no evidence that Steve Newlin has been held here, though I would like to take a statement from you on your movements since the Rhodes bombing."

"Not a problem." Eric is already leading us all back up the stairs. "Do you mind if I ask what or who sent you on this apparently wild goose chase in search of the missing Reverend?"

"I can't answer that Mr Northman. I'm sorry."

But he can think it. And he does.

"Very well Captain, I understand."

We're back in the main bar now, just Eric's vampires and Henshaw's team remaining. Ginger fetches Eric a bottled blood and a gin for me, while he mostly tells Hargreaves the truth about his movements for the last two days. No one asks the 'assistant' anything.

Finally they're all gone and Eric barks rapid orders at Pam and his vampires before ushering me back to his office. I take my gin, sure this conversation, no matter how pleased I am about what I managed to do, is going to make him angry with me. I guess I must be getting used to it.

I settle myself on the couch and busy myself with my drink while Eric folds himself into his chair and tents his fingers, basting me in curiosity rather than asking me a direct question.

I sigh. Because I'm going to tell him as much of the truth as I can, a sort of we're in this together' peace offering which I hope will deflect him from the things I can't tell him.

"In Rhodes, when you glamoured Tammy, I was in her head and I sort of worked out how you did it. I already knew what a glamoured mind felt like, it's a bit like a Rubik's cube where someone's cheated by re-doing the stickers. Looks right by isn't.

The cop that came to take my details had been glamoured and he recognised my name. He'd been told to engineer a situation where it looked like I was being held against my will so they could take me away from you.

Bill did it."

Okay. Not yet annoyed.

"I unglamoured him."

Nope. Still not annoyed. Interested maybe?

"Bill is expecting him to call him. But he won't, he's forgotten all about it."

"Interesting." Is Eric's only comment.

I sip my gin and wait.

"Anything else?"

"Bill glamoured him at the police station. So he must be near here somewhere."

Eric blinks, practically an involuntary facial tick where he's concerned.

"When you asked the Captain who put him up to this he thought about them."

"I was hoping he might." Eric nods.

"I didn't recognise the guy, but I'm assuming he's some local bigwig by the tone of the Captain's thoughts. Casey Mulligan."

"I am aware of him."

"I did recognise the vampire who was waiting for him in the limo when he left the police station before the raid."

Up goes the eyebrow, along with a sharp spike in Eric's curiosity.

"He was at the Summit but I can't remember who Pam said he was, I'll need to describe him to her."

"Pam!"

"Eric?" She enquires, sweeping the door open dramatically.

"Vampire. Summit. Name."

Her eyebrow goes up. Vampires might not be biologically related but they sure pick up a lot from their 'parents'.

"He was about average height. Dark hair. Medium build. You particularly didn't approve of him. Used to be somebody's second in command."

"Victor Madden." Eric growls.

"Well." Pam smirks. "Since I'm not needed I'll get back to counting tonight's meagre takings and preparing for tomorrow night's rush."

The door closes behind her.

My own eyebrow goes up and Eric chuckles wryly.

"Our appeal will be considerably enhanced. Takings will be through the roof for weeks."

"Ah." I return my attention to my drink.

I can't tell what he's feeling, like his speed of movement his emotions are often too fast for me to latch onto.

"I still cannot trust you." He says after a while.

"Why thank you." I huff. "I'll decide how to take that later if you don't mind."

He chuckles again and then sobers, the steely determination coming from him even has me sitting up and squaring my shoulders.

"I will have Thalia take you home. I still have much I need to do tonight."

"Home?" I ask hopefully.

"One of my homes." He clarifies. "She will guard you until I return."

I open my mouth to object but he beats me to it.

"Amongst other things it is my responsibility to protect you. Bill has failed to acquire you tonight and I cannot simply allow him, or whoever is instructing him, another opportunity. Unless of course you would rather be acquired by Bill than stay with me?"

I swallow a slug of gin and glare at him mutinously. Way to put me on the spot Eric.

"Our bond is still open Ms Stackhouse." He comments idly. "So you might as well be honest."

"Fine. I'd rather stay with you."

Jerk. I almost close the bond, but that probably isn't a good way to gain his trust.

Instead of the amusement I was expecting at my mini burst of anger, I feel his curiosity again.

And then its subsumed in determination and he's on his feet, barking orders.

In no time at all I'm out the door, secured in a car with Thalia at the wheel, speeding away into the darkness like a starlet escaping the paparazzi.

"Princess has protected Master this night." She informs me.

"Not really. He'd have worked it out on his own."

"Perhaps. No one can think of everything." She says reverting to perfect English. "Sometimes it takes two to make things work."

"What happened to Newlin?"

"Sharp sword." She says simply.

"Yours?"

"It is the sharpest." She titters. "Eric is very fond of his big hack and slash Viking sword but mine cuts with more precision."

I shiver and her titter turns into a laugh.

"I will teach you if you like."

"To use a sword?" My voice squeaks.

"Why not?" She shrugs. "You are part of the supernatural world. You should be able to defend yourself."

I don't know what to say to that or how I feel about it.

"Fairies are good with swords." She adds, glancing at me slyly.

"They are?"

"You do not know much about who you are, do you?"

"I'm a waitress . . . ." I begin my usual refrain, squirming in my seat with the growing discomfort of it.

Sharp curiosity grips me. At this distance, really?

The whole car starts ringing and Thalia thumbs a button on the steering wheel to answer it.

"Yes?"

"My human is distressed."

Eric.

"Has been blown up, kidnapped, searched by police, bothered by Compton and is trapped in car with Thalia." She growls. "Master surprised?"

"You will not distress my human." He snaps. "I am trying to concentrate."

"Yes Master." She responds compliantly, ending the call.

"Opening your bond with Eric is a smart move." She tells me. "But I suggest you learn more subtle ways to control it."

I use deep even breaths to keep myself calm.

"He trusts you." I accuse, stung by the fact that fifty percent of his comfort zone might be working against him. She knows Niall after all and I clearly don't.

For some reason this makes her smile broadly.

"And so he should." She says with confidence. "Godric loved him and therefore so do I. I am not speaking as an enemy, I would have killed you already if I really thought you were a threat to him. I am speaking as a woman. He should not always be able to feel everything you feel, it could distract him and place him in danger. You must learn to temper your reactions."

"Don't you feel bad for not telling him what I am?" I ask, thinking of my recent trip down guilt street.

"No." She answers succinctly. "I promised the Prince I would not and it is not my responsibility. It is yours. The blood that flows through your veins will make no difference to Eric. You are still judging the book by its cover."

"Niall told me never to let vampires know what I am."

"He is not vampires. He is Eric."


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 29 Swords and Sorcery**

**EPOV**

First I contacted Stan to inform him I had to terminate Newlin without eliciting any useful information. He was stoic about it. And I told him, purely in conversation, that Victor Madden had been in Louisiana. All legitimate and above board.

Then I called the Queen's palace to report the raid. I did not mention that I actually had Newlin at one point, if the Queen has been told my role with the counsel she will be able to read between the lines. I did not mention Madden, though I will have to tell either the Queen or Andre, I merely asked for one of them to call me back.

I have also despatched some resources to search for Compton and sent out requests for further information on the actions of Philadelphia and his key people.

And, having re-arranged my defences and my people for the umpteenth time, I have nothing left I can do this night. Herveaux and his pack will take over guarding my safehouse and Pam's in the morning.

I haven't used this safehouse for a while so I swing by a store on the way back to pick up some bottle blood and some food items for the non-human since I sincerely doubt Thalia would have been disposed to do so. Although I am assuming she has been behaving herself since I have felt nothing untoward in the bond since earlier.

This house is small and modest, set well back in the woods and I pull the car off the road into the trees beside Thalia's, prepared to enjoy the crisp night air on the walk in, mentally tracking that the additional guards are properly deployed.

The lights in the house are blazing and I wonder what the non-human is doing to keep herself awake and so _happy_, and why Thalia is not out here skulking around in the darkness as she is apt to do.

The answer is obvious as I soon as I clear the tree line and I stop to watch through the picture window.

Thalia is teaching the non-human to fight with one of my short training swords. Though she has clearly never wielded a sword before she does show some promise, although when she swings again the weight of the sword pulls her off balance and she falls on her bottom, laughing. I cannot hear what they are saying, I am too far away, but I am extremely shocked when a laughing Thalia pulls the non-human to her feet and shows her the correct stance again. This time she manages to stay upright although an opponent would have decapitated her easily. They continue in the same vein for a while until the non-human is managing to take a decent swing without exposing herself to a lethal counter attack. The sight of her learning my sword is ludicrously sexy but finally tiredness seeps into the bond and she throws up her hands, collapsing on the couch.

After a short conversation Thalia darts through the rooms and out, arriving by my side in moments.

"Master's woman bored and fretful. Was distracting." She explains. "Making her useful to Master."

"I am hardly going to be sending her out to smite my enemies with a sword." I point out, totally at a loss what to make of this development.

"Shame." Thalia shrugs. "The female of the species often most smiteful."

And with a smirk she blurs away. She knows I am happy for her to rest in the house but she prefers to make her own arrangements outside.

I stay where I am, watching the non-human stretch and wriggle, working the kinks out of her muscles and attempting to get comfortable on the couch. I dare not go in just yet, I am aroused and thirsty and I am supposed to be protecting her, not attacking her like a hormone crazed human teenager.

Eventually she stops flaunting her perfect body at me and settles down, falling swiftly into a deep sleep.

Just to be sure I down a blood before entering the house. Cold it is even less appetizing but at least it takes the edge off.

Again I go through the routine of clearing my daytime chamber so she can occupy it in my stead, the secure accommodation in this house is smaller so I will rest in my office space. Then, for reasons I cannot fathom, I go back to my car to retrieve her coffee maker and supplies, placing them on the credenza in her room. I would never in a thousand years have expected to find myself in the predicament of having to care for something so complex and time consuming as a human, even if she is not a real one, she is a burden. The reality of which has me usefully and protectively annoyed as I heft her into my arms and carry her to my bed. Again.

She sighs and snuggles into my chest, her warmth and softness burning through my annoyance like flame through a cotton thread. Immediately I can feel myself growing hard, fangs throbbing in my gums.

What could it really cost me to have her, just once? Perhaps it would be enough to free me from what is becoming something of an unhealthy obsession. It can only be abstinence that causes me to have this reaction to her.

I look down as I carry her. Her head has fallen back, her long blonde hair brushing against my thighs and I do not know what captivates me more, the sweep of her lashes on her cheeks or the beat of her pulse in her slender exposed neck.

Carefully I lay her down on the bed, settling her against the pillows, turning to leave when my cell leaps into life.

"Northman." I answer quietly.

"Sheriff. Andre. I am glad you called, I needed to contact you."

Yes, you did.

"Andre, I needed to report that the King of Philadelphia has allegedly been sighted in our state."

"Yes, Eric, thank you. I am unsurprised, he came to pay his respects to our Queen."

He did?

"I appreciate your informing me but there is nothing to be concerned about."

"Very well."

"We are calling all the Sheriffs in for a meeting at the Palace tomorrow night." He continues. "I trust you will be able to attend?"

"Of course, may I ask what the meeting concerns?"

"Just a general catch-up, her Majesty considers it necessary after Rhodes, I am sure you understand."

"She is well, our Queen?"

"Of course Eric. You will bring your human. Her Majesty has requested the use of her services."

"As her Majesty wishes."

I end the call, pressing the cool panel of the cell against my forehead.

"Fuck!" I curse softly.

"Isn't it a bit risky to have everyone in New Orleans when there's a possibility of a takeover, or whatever you called it?" Her question startles me, I had not realised she had awakened.

"How could you even hear that conversation?" I demand, immediately suspicious.

She shrugs. "Too much vampire blood."

"Yes." I find myself answering her. "It is stupid. All the Queen's assets will be in one place to be attacked."

"So it's a trap?"

"I am not sure. Sophie-Anne's children would never betray her, it is a gift of hers to inspire loyalty, even that deviant Andre would not willingly cause her harm. He would, however, willing harm anyone else."

Me for instance. Or you, for another.

"You are worried about it." She states, reminding me that our bond is still open.

"You should sleep, we will have a full night tomorrow."

"What will we do?"

"I do not know."

"Your honesty is frightening Eric." She observes with a wry twitch to her soft lips.

"It is not your problem. I will ensure your safety."

"Don't I have some responsibility for it too, didn't you tell me that just last night?"

"You will take my training sword and assist?" I tease her.

"If that's the best I can do Eric." She responds in all seriousness.

We're done with this conversation and I stalk out, closing and locking the security system behind me.

**NPOV**

Ah. There is nothing like the glow of orgasmic fairy. The recent recipient of my hands, mouth and other pleasure giving body parts.

Aghavilla.

She gave her soul to me a long time ago.

And I probably should have married her not long after. She is the uncontested head of my consorts, the one my children consider their surrogate mother, the true mistress of my household and what is left of my heart, the only one who knows my secrets.

"Niall." She purrs, scraping her finger nails maddeningly across my scalp. "What troubles you?"

"Is this a torture technique Aga?"

"If you will it my Prince."

"Do not call me that." I huff, rolling off her warm body but pulling her tightly into my side.

"My Prince." I feel her lips curving into a smile against my chest. "Speak to me."

"Humph."

"Use your words." She purrs, maintaining her pleasurable assault on my scalp and keeping her lips pressed to my skin.

"Forgive me Aga for I have sinned." I chuckle attempting to lighten the mood.

"What did you do?"

"I may have removed a few heads I should not have done."

"Hm?"

"And used a little a magic where I should not have done."

"Sookie?"

"I have done all I should have done to provide for her in her world yet I feel compelled to do more. "

"Niall." She sighs. "You have only ever done what you have needed to do. To protect us, your people.

She is your Great Granddaughter. Fintan's last gift to you. What else would you do but attempt to protect her too?"

"I should have just brought her here."

"And I am sure she would love it." Aga chuckles. "So many relatives vying for your attention. The petty politics. They would be decimated by her hand within a week I am certain, she sounds so much like Eildith."

"Aga . . . ." I hate when my poor departed wife comes up between us.

"Niall, my love, when will you accept that your love for her does not harm me?"

Her fingers leave my hair to trail up and down my back.

"I know you love me. I accept that you cannot give me your soul. In what way are we different to most couples except in that we know?"

"I do not deserve you." I admit to her hair.

"Perhaps not." She murmurs, pursing her lips into a kiss. "But you have me anyway."

I roll her beneath me again so I can show her how much I love her, despite everything.

…..

Ortel is waiting when I leave my chambers some time later.

"I thought." He begins. "That we had decided not to interfere in the politics of the mortal realm?"

"Are you telling me off?" I ask, raising an imperious eyebrow to illustrate my point.

"I would never have the nerve Majesty." He responds with a perfectly straight face.

Cheeky fairy. Of course he has. It is one of the reasons we are friends.

"What have I missed?" I ask, deliberately lengthening my stride so he has to work hard to keep up with me.

"Well for one 'disappearing' the Reverend Steve Newlin has created a media storm of epic proportions. Half the country wants to hang him and the other half are minting him medals."

Yes. He has a point, that was perhaps not the most sensible way to mete out his punishment but it seemed appropriate.

"The Princess's soul stalker very nearly met his end over it but they were able to deal with Newlin just in time."

Alright. I will have to be more careful.

"What else?" I demand as we enter the audience hall, scattering fairies in all directions.

"More than one vampire monarch is preparing to take over the Princess's state."

"The most immediate threat?"

"Victor Madden, Philadelphia."

"Do I know him, he does not sound familiar."

"No. He is only a few hundred years old."

I lean over the bowl and peer down into the still waters, leafing through the images quickly. This Madden is not the type of vampire I will sanction to be in close proximity to my Great Granddaughter.

"Ortel."

"Majesty?"

"Summon the Keepers and fetch my sword, I am in the mood for some more interfering in the mortal realm."

"Are you sure Majesty? Perhaps we should not use your sword to resolve this particular issue, your wild side is starting to show."

"Fine. Then rouse a few of the Guard to accompany us and we will use _their_ swords."

"You are enjoying this just a little too much." He huffs, turning away to carry out my orders.

I am not of a mind to start a war, I have after all spent far too much time and expended a great deal of energy putting a stop to them, but I am not averse to making my presence known to a new generation of vampire if it becomes necessary. And it may, if my Great Granddaughter wishes to remain in that world, which of course she might.

And then of course the trouble will start everywhere else, there are already rumblings about my recent habit of leaving the realm when no one else is afforded the same privilege.

I take a deep happy breath and allow the watching fairies to bask in my most beatific smile. I cannot remember the last time I was this less bored. It is rather wonderful.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 30 The Green Eyed Elephant in the Corner**

**SPOV**

I've never met anyone who can terminate a conversation so abruptly. Clearly I have annoyed him again. How? Who knows. I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled that I seem to be getting used to being on the wrong end of his displeasure.

Jerk.

For once I am able to go in the shower and get ready for bed, I can barely remember the last time I slept in my pjs. It's not entirely normal, I'm guessing that dawn isn't far away, yet I am more than ready to slumber away the day.

There is so much I should be worrying about but my mind is draggy and sluggish, or is that Eric I'm feeling through the bond? Either way I don't have the energy to spare right now to fret about Niall, Andre, takeovers, sword and homily wielding Thalias, or Erics.

Instead I wrap myself tightly in the 'eau de Viking' comforter and drift away.

…..

"We are leaving for Fangtasia in twenty minutes."

I open my eyes to find Mr Frosty looming over me, thankfully fully clothed in his normal club attire of thigh hugging jeans, artfully 'barely there' t-shirt and leather jacket.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" I huff, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"You were tired."

"I'm still tired." I grumble, rubbing my eyes again for good measure.

"We do not have time for your human act. Get up. Get dressed."

And, he's gone.

I'd love another shower but there's getting used to Eric being pissed and pushing your luck. I haven't reached pushing my luck for cleanliness yet, not when I'm prepared to push it with coffee first. Gran would be horrified.

The coffee brews while I wash myself and get dressed and I'm just wrapping my lips around the rim of the mug when Mr Frosty re-appears.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

He rolls his eyes.

"I will take the coffee contraption to the car." He informs me, blurring in and out with my suitcase in tow too.

At least he didn't make a grab for the mug, I might have staked him. At least in my head.

When he returns I've drained most of my necessary fuel and can muster a fairly vocal objection when he flings me over his shoulder and runs me out to the car.

"You know." I mutter as I strap myself in. "The whole Viking thing has been over for quite a while."

"What do you know about real Vikings?" He snorts derisively.

"Nothing." I admit. "But the whole slinging a defenceless woman over your shoulder thing is very cliché."

"You think I am a cliché?"

He sounds vaguely offended and without thinking I open the bond to see what he's feeling.

Oh. Offended. Who knew Viking vampires could be so sensitive?

Don't laugh Stackhouse. Just don't.

"Didn't you also threaten to drag me about by my hair?"

"I was trying to impress upon you the importance of following my orders."

"Of course you were."

"It was extremely important, I could not and cannot protect you if you do not co-operate with me."

"Isn't there a difference between co-operation and following orders?"

"There is a distinction I was unsure you would grasp."

This time I do laugh. He actually has a point. If I'd been less scared I'd have been way more difficult and I guess that would have made him a good deal nastier. I'm not sure what I feel about the fact he knew that before I did.

"Nevertheless." He growls. "I meant what I said about the whole dragging you back by the hair thing. Though for the record that is more caveman than Viking. The instincts are similar but I am considerably less hairy."

I fix my attention on the passing scenery, laughter bubbling up at his indignation whether I want it to or not.

Right, smooth as a baby's bottom . . . .

My laugher is now almost hysterical as we pull into the Fangtasia lot.

"I amuse you?" He asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Sometimes Eric, sometimes." I manage to choke out as he helps me out of the car.

_. . . . he's laughing . . . ._

_. . . . she's here again . . . . _

_. . . . fuck, they look so good together, I don't stand a chance . . . ._

_. . . . bitch . . . ._

_. . . . she's a fucking waitress . . . ._

_. . . . trailer trash . . . ._

"What is the matter?" He asks as my steps falter once again.

"Your female admirers don't like me very much."

He snorts and his arm snakes around my waist.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, just about not managing to leap away from him.

"You are a woman and they are sluts. I am protecting you."

"By making me an even bigger target?" I ask as we reach the front of the line.

"No Sookie." Pam chuckles. "By showing them that he values you highly enough to touch you respectfully in front of them."

"You know." I huff. "For vampires I'd have thought you'd have a better grasp of human nature. The first time I take a comfort break tonight they're gonna be queuing up to rip my hair out."

"Sookie." Pam coos. "I would never allow it. Your hair is beautiful."

"Fine. I'll call _you_ when I need to take a leak."

"And I will wipe you afterwards with all the care and attention I can muster." She drawls, winking.

"Pamela." Eric snaps. "Enough."

"Yes Master." She laughs. "But seriously Sookie. My Master is correct. Revel in your superiority. And I will protect you in your human endeavours without impuning your modesty."

"Um, thanks, I think."

She waves us inside and Eric chuckles as he places his hand in the small of my back, guiding me to his booth.

"You will read the humans for me?" He asks, moving aside so Ginger can slide my gin and tonic in front of me.

"Yes, of course."

"I will be in my office, you may summon me through the bond if you require me."

"Okay."

"Perhaps a little less force than you usually use?" He suggests, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Perhaps." I allow with a smile of my own.

Laughing quietly to himself he strides away.

Someone has very kindly laid out my pad and pen and in no time at all I find myself sketching Eric. I'm no great shakes as an artist but it's not half bad.

There's nothing of note going on in the minds here tonight so to alleviate the boredom I start playing around with my disability. I seem to have much better control these days. I can definitely hear minds further away and with practice it's becoming easier and easier to filter through the throng, homing in on some people in more detail and blocking out others almost completely. And then, because I'm tempted, however stupidly, to try it again, I decide to have another go at reading a vampire.

In the end I choose a small wiry woman I've seen at the club a few times, mainly because she's in my line of sight and I think she's quite young, only a decade or so old.

Nothing doing though, no matter how hard I concentrate my mind keeps bouncing off the big shiny void that is hers. Alright, think. You've heard Eric a couple of times, what were you doing each time you heard him? Oh right, let me see. Long Shadow, terrified and preparing to die. The night we bonded, terrified and hoping not to die. The last time? Terrified and not concentrating. Of course, it happens when I'm not concentrating, which I never usually am because I don't need to block out vampires. Brilliant, brain. Have you any idea how hard it is to deliberately not concentrate on something? Of course it does, people try to do it around me all the time. Some of them even manage it for a while, how do they do that?

_**. . . . . thirsty, need to feed properly . . . . .**_

Okay, it's not much of a skill if it only works on Eric. And, ironically, my concentration is shot now because I can feel his hunger, thirst, whatever, through the bond. It has me practically squirming in my seat in sympathy, I'm not a skinny woman and there are days when I could eat a scabby horse, but Eric's _need_ is more than _I_ could handle. I'd be face down in Lafayette's meagre dessert selection if I ever felt that hungry.

Still nothing going on in the human heads so I deliberately 'fail' to concentrate on the wiry vampire, Sally, I think her name is.

Now he's horny? I think so, his emotions are whipping too fast for me to follow properly.

The head of the young man next to Sally is not a great place to be but maybe it works like the old Magic Eye books, Gran got me one for my birthday once, I was pretty useless at it in fairness. Not because I couldn't work out what the pictures were, quite the opposite in fact, the authors might as well have drawn around them with a black marker for all the trouble I had picking them out . . . .

_**. . . . . he'll do, at least he doesn't smell . . . . .**_

Wow. That was her, I know it was, she's sliding her arm around his shoulders and leading him toward the back of the club. Like Newlin her thoughts were kind of cold and staccato. Maybe because they think quicker than we do? Though the snippets I get from Eric feel much more like my thoughts. Mind you, he is Eric. Is that why they feel like voids, because their thoughts jump around so quick like their emotions? Like trying to see your white sweater when the washing machine's at full spin?

Jason did that to me once. Snuck it in with a load of his football gear Gran was washing. I'd still have loved it if it had come out all pink but it was kind of streaky and abused looking. She made him peel the potatoes for a week for that . . . .

God, he really is hungry but his feelings of anticipation have gone through the roof, nearly taking me with them. And then I'm flooded with something even worse, my knees ramming together automatically. Oh shit, that's too much, he knows the bond is open, how fucking disrespectful can you be? I mentally show him my index finger and slam it closed before he can react.

Jerk!

And shit, if she isn't the world's loudest broadcaster. I'm cutting you off too lady, enjoy the face down view of Eric's desk you're currently getting, I hope that drawer handle leaves a fucking bruise.

Ick. Ew. That's just nasty . . . . Their memories are bad enough but that was like a violation in stereo . . . .

_**. . . . . I'd rather have the Sheriff's human . . . . .**_

What?

My eyes scan the club, looking for the source of what I suspect was a vampire thought, cold and quick . . . .

There? Over by the bar. A tall male with wavy brown hair is watching me covertly over the shoulder of the fangbanger rubbing herself up against him.

**. . . . . she smells like sunshine . . . . .**

Aw, that's actually quite flattering but then he thinks about what he'd like to do to me and I go off him rather rapidly.

Brilliant Stackhouse. Really, well done. Now there is no section of society you can relax with. You'd better start buying cats and saving up for a shack on the top of a mountain, because you are going to be lonely and single forever. Trouble is, now I've stumbled into a vampire mind or two, I don't know how to shut them out. They're actually surprisingly loud broadcasters, every damn one of them.

_**. . . . . so scared about this takeover . . . . .**_

_**. . . . . thirsty . . . . .**_

_**. . . . . be glad when this takeover is done and I can go back to my nest . . . . . **_

_**. . . . . think about the money . . . . .**_

Its like when I was younger and didn't really understand how to protect my mind. Random thoughts assaulting me from every direction with no ability to filter or concentrate on any one thing.

Argh!

I slam my shields down, reeling from the sudden quiet.

Thalia watches me with concern as I stumble away from the booth, heading for the restrooms and one of those comfort breaks that requires locking yourself in a cubicle and willing the rest of the world away for a while . . . .

Oh, big mistake. The mirror space is occupied by the owner of the mind I've been avoiding like the plague for the last few minutes. There are oozing fang marks on her neck that she is making no attempt to hide.

I can smell him on her. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be able to do that. And I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be making me want to slap her stupid face.

I keep my shields tight, especially as I can see the slow smile of recognition spreading on her face. I don't need to read her tiny mind to know what's coming next.

"Hi." She says, arranging her hair to ensure the fang marks can't be missed.

"Hello." I am nothing if not polite.

"I hope you don't mind?"

"Don't mind what?" I ask stupidly. That's great Stackhouse, walk right into it.

"What the Master and I just did."

I turn to the mirror, delving into my jeans pocket for my eyeliner and starting to apply it with deep concentration.

"Oh that. No, I don't mind."

"Really?" She asks, re-applying the lipstick I know she wiped off on his desk blotter, not his mouth.

"Of course not." I drawl airily, applying a little more eyeliner and blending it with my pinkie. "At least he looks me in the face when he fucks me."

She launches herself at me with a screech and I don't know which of us is more surprised when, in the blink of an eye, I have her suspended by the throat a good inch off the bathroom floor.

Time stands still for one, mutually, horrified moment. And then with a gasp I let go, and she crashes to the floor on her hands and knees, scrambling round me on all fours like an arthritic Labrador.

Too much vampire blood. Way too much . . . .

I turn to study myself in the mirror as she drags herself out the door. I'm literally glowing from within, like a pregnant woman or something. It must be Eric's blood and I really should have been paying more attention and noticed it sooner. But even as I stare at my reflection the flush fades from my skin and I just look like me again.

Alright. Dodgy overhead lights, vampire blood, random aggressive tendencies and soaring stress levels. Must be due for the monthly unmentionables. Won't that be mortifying while Eric's pursuing his 'enemies closer' policy. I'd say my life really sucks at this point but thanks to a life time of telepathy I know it doesn't, not by a long shot.

A heavy sigh escapes me as I fiddle pointlessly with my hair. And it is pointless. It's extremely thick and heavy and unless I use artificial aids and a ton of hairspray it falls exactly as it likes, usually in waves around my shoulders and down my back. It needs cutting, I can't remember the last time I had it done, I'm surprised there aren't more split ends.

I'd better go back, before Thalia or Pam comes to fetch me like a dog.

I nudge the door open, somehow unsurprised to find Eric waiting for me.

"What happened?" He asks, expression and emotions inscrutable.

"Nothing. Your 'dinner date' just had a bit more attitude than I usually like in my sluts."

He regards me in silence for a while and then he laughs. Actually laughs. Like this is in any way funny.

"I had to glamour her." He admits. "She thought you were going to kill her."

"Good. I hope you glamoured away the memory of your less than stellar performance in the office earlier too, no girl should have to live with that." Must be due on soon, the brain to mouth filter is absent without leave, as is, apparently, my sense of self preservation.

Head held high I flounce away, savouring the look on his face as his mouth dropped open. I'm sure I'll pay for it later, but it was probably worth it.

I ease myself back into the booth to find a fresh gin and tonic and Thalia, with what Jason would call a 'shit eating' grin on her face.

"The Master does not like to have his sexual supremacy questioned." She stage whispers.

"Then the Master should not be rubbing his lack thereof in my Fairy face." I snap with an annoyed shrug.

"Oh Princess." She laughs lightly. "I am fairly certain he will not be making _that_ mistake again."


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 31 Giving Ground**

**EPOV**

When Pam announced my refreshment break I did not give it a second thought. I was thirsty and I was in need of release.

True the fangbanger in question was one of Pam's less spectacular selections, but time was short and like me she had many more important things claiming her attention. And a feed and fuck is meant to be exactly what it says on the tin.

And of course as soon as Pam herded her into my office and I smelt her blood and her arousal my reactions were almost completely normal.

Except that usually, even with a woman who is not worthy, I pride myself on my attention to detail, on my desire to please my lovers even as they please me.

But this woman was not blonde, beautiful, or remotely dangerous and my need for her was purely on a maintenance level.

So I closed down my end of the bond and like an arachnophobe in therapy, I bent her over my desk, refusing to even look at her as I took her from behind and sank my fangs into her neck. Unsatisfied and unsatisfying. Not that she seemed to care anymore than I did.

I felt the non-human's annoyance, even as I pulsed and came inside the fangbanger.

And then I felt her absence. Cold, pointed and unsettling in a way I cannot fathom.

I closed the bond. I know I did . . . .

Angry words wrench me from my office and my feed and fuck staggers to her feet in front of me, just outside the restrooms.

I catch her easily, glamouring her to tell me what happened, noting the purple bruises flowering on her pasty and unappealing neck.

The non-human has revealed her true colors. Such a shame I do not recognise them.

Easily I use my glamour to wipe away my meal's memories, sending her on her way so I can deal with the non-human when she emerges.

Her eyes rake me mercilessly when the door opens and she finds me standing there, I do not need to feel her disdain to recognise it.

"What happened?" I ask, knowing at least some of the answers.

"Nothing. Your 'dinner date' just had a bit more attitude than I usually like in my sluts."

Ouch. Non-human claws are showing. I like it. And I laugh.

"I had to glamour her." I offer. "She thought you were going to kill her."

The non-human's eyes narrow and darken, glittering dangerously.

Magnificent.

"Good. I hope you glamoured away the memory of your less than stellar performance in the office earlier too, no girl should have to live with that."

I do not blink. My mouth falls open instead.

And she stalks away. My Valkyrie. Her long blonde hair swaying heavily against her back.

I think she has _finally_ rendered my sex drive responsive to only one stimulus.

…..

The club has cleared now and we are able to get down to the business at hand. Namely our forced trip to the otherwise beguiling city of New Orleans.

"Eric." Pam asks. "Is it safe?"

"No." I answer honestly. "I do not see how it can be. Either Andre is up to no good or someone with more sense is."

"Then I must come with you." She states forcefully.

"No. Pam. You must not. Though you were not specifically invited there is too much risk involved. You will see to the appropriate precautions here. For yourself and the others who depend on us."

I can feel how unhappy she is with my edict.

"Thalia. You will remain here with Pam."

You are as strong a fighter as I am, my child may need you.

She nods, not needing to hear my reasoning, we have known each other a long time. The non-human shifts in her seat, showing her unhappiness with my decision.

I glare at her and surprisingly she subsides.

Pam is my only child. I must see to her safety even above my own. I should be able to protect the non-human but if I am not I would rather meet my true death than have anything happen to my child.

The suspicion that the non-human understands this twists at the constricted mess in my chest.

My spies have revealed no new information about Madden or any of the other dangers facing us. I could refuse to travel to New Orleans. If Stan makes his move quickly such a decision would be correct. If he does not, the instability that is Andre would be here in a moment and though he is no match for me the consequences would be catastrophic for the non-human and the others I hold dear. Treason. Such an easy crime to commit.

I am resigned.

The noose is tight.

As long as my child is safe I will do whatever I can for the non-human and myself.

I cannot see it ending well.

With very few options we have decided that the non-human, her were guards and I, will travel during the day so that we can be in New Orleans at sundown.

I should be afraid for my life under such circumstances but I can see no other way.

Perhaps I have taken leave of my senses or maybe the confidence and ease of Pam and Thalia is rubbing off on me. Neither of them seem remotely perturbed that my life will be in the non-human's hands. Pam likes her, which is surprising. Thalia likes her, which is astounding. Of course they do not know what I know, but still, I feel curiously blasé about the trip to New Orleans. It is what will happen when we get there that is consuming most of my thoughts.

I do not trust this. I do not trust it at all.

Philadelphia has been to visit the Queen? Vampire do not make social calls. And he is apparently behind the raid on Fangtasia, one which clearly had the backing of the AVL as their own resources were in attendance. As a member of the counsel convened on the Rhodes bombing he will have known that Stan delivered Newlin here. Monarchs do not usually share much information with the AVL because it renders them 'untrustworthy' to the others, however considering the media circus over Newlin in this case they would have had no choice but to support any action the AVL took against me, once they knew the Reverend was in my 'care'. Philadelphia is a shrewd opponent it seems. He, or at the very least Compton, has also made an attempt to take the non-human.

The non-human who can unglamour cops and hoist hefty fangbangers into the air with one hand.

Internally I sigh as the discussion and planning continues around me. For all my age and experience I do not think I can take much more. I feel like I am being repeatedly hit over the head by an extremely heavy blunt object. A brick perhaps.

Herveaux and his weres are here, they have already stolen a truck in which to transport my travel coffin and along with their own armoury they have retrieved the non-human's silver loaded shot gun, the clothes she needs, and the silver jewellery Pam supplied her with.

Our plans are finally made and it is getting very late. The non-human is also practically falling asleep, upright in her chair, and clearly requires some rest. Dismissing the others I move her to the couch, leaving Thalia to guard her while I retrieve the items I will need for tomorrow.

I have always revelled in my ability to fly. To borrow a human phrase I have always found it 'cool' not to mention useful. It is very hard to track a flying vampire and I cannot afford to be tracked tonight.

Flying with a re-enforced electronically secured travel coffin is more chore than pleasure, however I manage to deliver it to the rendezvous location with the weres without dropping it, so they can load it in the truck. By leaving from a halfway point between Shreveport and New Orleans we will arrive in the city far earlier than anyone, friend or foe, can anticipate.

Next I fly to one of my other houses to don my light tight suit, thank you NASA, stuffing the hood in my inner jacket picket. I am one of only a few vampire who are aware that the technology exists, those of us who actually possess a suit are even fewer. It serves as extra protection if I am travelling under less than ideal conditions and though it sounds like a liberating invention there is still nothing on earth that can animate me fully during the daylight hours.

With a business suit over it I fly back Fangtasia to collect the non-human.

I am consciously putting the issues she represents to the back of mind. At the moment my instinct tells me that we are in this, whatever this is, together and I should continue to encourage her assistance rather than her animosity. So I wake her gently.

She stirs immediately and I am struck by how pale and tired she looks as she sits up, rubbing her eyes in that curiously vulnerable gesture I have come to know.

"We must leave soon."

"Okay." She mutters, stretching and twisting with a delicate yawn, which she covers with her dainty hand.

This is going to _burn_ on the way out . . . .

"Ms Stackhouse, Sookie, I would like to apologise."

Her eyes widen and her breathing hitches. Hardly surprising and I cannot help but smile wryly.

"Last night. When I was _dining_ I thought I had closed our bond. Obviously I was mistaken. Apparently I can neither open nor close it. If I caused you any discomfort I am sorry."

She blinks at me a few times and I can almost hear the cogs in her head slipping as she tries to calculate the motivation behind my words. When she does I hope she will enlighten _me_ . . . .

"Perhaps you should warn me next time." She says eventually, her face flushing at the implications.

Mentally I roll my eyes. Of course. It makes perfect sense. I, the vampire, am in theory going to have to ask _my_ bonded 'human's' permission if I wish to slake any of my desires. Fantastic, I can feel the blunt instrument trauma starting in on my skull again already.

The bond opens and immediately I can feel ebbing embarrassment, fear, and growing determination.

"There's something I need to tell you." She admits quietly after a few moments, dropping her eyes. "Tonight in the bar, I was bored, so I started playing around. You were right, I can hear vampires. I couldn't _before_, but I seem to have worked out how to do it."

Her eyes rise to mine and I keep my expression and emotions neutral. I am not sure I believe her entirely but now is not the time to get into it. Encouraged by my silence she continues.

"I'm not sure if it's going to help us in New Orleans, I haven't exactly had much practice with it and I got much less than I would with a human, like you guys are on a different wavelength or something, and I couldn't deliberately focus on anyone in particular. But I wanted you to know, just in case."

I watch her in silence while I process the implications.

"Sookie. Never, _ever_, tell anyone but me that you can do this, no matter how limited the ability is. Please, trust me in this, it would be very dangerous for you if word got out." And me.

She nods, her fear flaring and her eyes dropping again.

"Can you hear me now?"

She shakes her head without looking up. "No. I don't want to be able to do this Eric, I get so little peace and quiet as it is, I'm glad I can't hear you now, I was afraid that I would be able to after what happened earlier. I had to use my shields to block the thoughts out. But I'll try to read the others, later, since it could be trap."

"I am surprised you shared this with me." I confess, considering _her_ motivations.

"So am I." She whispers ruefully, forcing her eyes back to meet mine. "Please don't make me regret it."

"We must go." I extend my hand and she takes it so that I can pull her smoothly to her feet.

Outside in the back lot she glances round at the lack of vehicles.

"How are we getting to Alcide and the pack?" She asks in all innocence.

Smirking I raise my index finger to the stars twinkling in the night sky.

Her look of incomprehension is almost endearing.

**SPOV**

If it was anybody but Eric, I swear . . . .

It nearly made me glad I hadn't eaten anything in god knows how long. I'm sure being splattered with vomit from a great height and no discernible source would easily make the National Enquirer.

Of course he thought it was _hilarious_.

The jerk.

Meeting up with Alcide and his pack brothers was weird. On the one hand I could clearly pick up the derogatory feelings about vampires they shared with him but on the other they were like excited little boys, ready for adventure and spoiling for a fight. To my relief there was no one who seemed to be planning to do anything untoward to Eric.

Alcide is driving the refrigerated truck they stole and I'm the only one travelling with him, Eric in his travel coffin doesn't count seeing as he's dead for the day.

Having taken one look at me he wanted me to get some sleep but though I'm tired, possibly exhausted, I'm not sleepy. What I am is ravenous. Fortunately no one seemed to care that we were throwing off of Eric's meticulous schedule by stopping for breakfast and one of Alcide's pack, Nathan, has a lady friend in New Orleans and directed us to the best diner enroute.

My ability to pack away a 'Hungry Man' breakfast seems to be amusing them no end. In their thoughts and their words. For once I don't mind hearing it, I never realised a woman who didn't try to hide her appetite could be considered sexy. Emboldened I use my fork to start taking a swipe at their plates and the ensuing rumpus eases the tight feeling in my chest with laughter. It's like being on a road trip with five Jasons.

"You okay?" Alcide whispers as he hands me back into the truck.

"Yes, I really needed that. Thanks Alcide."

He smiles and we both know I'm talking about more than the food.

"We're all on board with this Sookie." He says, suddenly serious. "We'll do whatever we can to protect you."

"_Please_." My mood plummets. "Alcide. Don't. It's enough that Eric's got to look out for me as well as himself. You guys just drop us off and pick us up. Please, promise me you won't get involved."

"Really cher?" He chuckles, preparing to shut my door. "The pack operates together. I won't abandon you and neither will they."

I stick my hand out to stop him.

"Alcide. You are my friend. I'm asking you. Don't get any more involved than you are. This is my problem, mine and Eric's."

Gently he pushes my hand back inside the cab so he can close the door and in just a few seconds he's round to his own side and slotting himself in behind the wheel.

"You and Eric?" He asks once we've pulled back out onto the highway.

"Its vampire stuff and I'm bonded to a vampire. That vampire." And I jerk my thumb toward the back of the truck where the coffin and its occupant are resting.

His thoughts immediately turn to pulling off the road and putting an end to Eric one way or another.

"Alcide." I sigh. "It's a lot more complicated than you think. Eric protects me. And I'd rather be bonded to him than any other. You'd have to stake _me_ first."

You'd think the resultant atmosphere would keep me awake. But you'd be wrong . . . .


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 32 Magic Eye**

**SPOV**

I didn't sleep for long. And when I woke I didn't advertise it.

I know we're about an hour from our destination because I know how long I was asleep. Don't ask me how I know that. I refuse to think about it. Nor how I know how long it is until sunset.

Alcide's thinking about a building code violation he needs to deal with when he gets back. Nathan's thinking about his lady friend, she seems nice. They're the only drivers and the others are all asleep and dreaming.

Thalia was quick to point out last night that I actually referred to myself as being a fairy. I don't think it's because I feel like one, she's quite right, I'm completely ignorant about what I am. I think it's just because I'm increasingly not thinking of myself as a human and I've no idea where I fit anymore. I've fought so hard to be normal and now it feels like I'm giving up. And I'm more resigned than scared, what does that mean?

I can hardly imagine going into Merlotte's again, certainly not to work. Sam's bar has been a major part of my life since the day he set me on there. The staff are my best friends, the customers effectively my whole social circle. There's no comfort in that anymore, only a kind of weary acceptance.

Of course I will go back, when this is over and Eric releases me, I'll go back because there's nothing else for me to do. And I'm sure I'll be perfectly relieved to do so, it's not surprising I'm feeling out of sorts under the circumstance.

That is assuming I don't end up dead or inconveniently enslaved tonight.

My life is in Eric's hands and even though he doesn't really like me I'm coming to realise that he takes his responsibilities as seriously as I do. If he can protect me he will. I'm not sure I'd be this calm about it if it were anyone else.

So in the happy event that this all works out and we're all driving home again tomorrow what happens next?

Eric isn't going to let me go back to my life until a takeover either happens or the danger is passed. I accept that. But he also said he won't let me go until I tell him the truth about myself. And I guess I'm going to when this is all over. How much worse can it be than telling him I can read vampire minds and he seemed to take that okay? Besides, we're bonded and he's entitled to the truth about what he's bonded to.

I don't know exactly when Eric stopped being eye candy, Vampire Sheriff of Area 5 and started being a person to me, but I can't turn it off now. I'm getting to know him and you can't just 'unknow' a person because it's convenient and less scary.

I used to be just scared that he'd lose patience with me and either drain me or sell me. Now I'm a little worried about what it might mean that I actually like him. Really like him, rather than just not _dislike_ him because of his personality quirks. He can be a real jerk but I'm starting to see a pattern emerging. God knows I don't know what to make of _that_ but it's there nevertheless.

And if we're both trying then we actually seem to be able to get on okay, well enough to work together anyway.

But it's not easy, I was furious with him last night until he apologised and I understood.

Was I _jealous_ of that fangbanger?

God no. If that's her idea of a good time I might feel a little sorry for her, she's got serious self-esteem issues. So what _was_ I so annoyed about last night? She thought Eric was my boyfriend so throwing what they'd just done in my face was rude in the extreme, she didn't know we're not involved that way and I didn't do anything to correct her.

I'm not annoyed about it now, I said my piece and it's done with.

So why do I still have a churning knotty feeling in the pit of my stomach? I've got standards and I've no desire to be bent over Eric's desk and used like an 'object', I don't care how good looking he is. But I feel like I want _something_ from him, something he's not giving me . . . .

"Wake up Sookie." Alcide's voice rescues me from my thoughts like a well-aimed life preserver.

"Hey, sorry, I was just dozing." I sit up straight and rub my neck which is stiff from being bent sideways against the window. "I'm never gonna get used to these vampire hours."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat my knee with his large hand. "We're almost at the address the Sheriff gave us, want to stop for a bite to eat before we get there?"

My stomach says yes for me and laughing properly he calls the others to let them know.

…..

A couple of hours later, just as the sun is starting to set we pull up in the parking lot of a fairly generic strip mall to wait for Eric to 'join' us.

The easy banter from our meal is gone and Jason would probably say we've got our games faces on. I'm not sure I've got a game face but I got changed in the restaurant restroom into one of my smart professional Sookie ensembles.

I've opened our bond so I know when he wakes up, it's so abrupt it must be disorientating but it doesn't seem to faze him, already his emotions are going a mile a minute. And almost immediately he is annoyed.

"Alcide, unlock the back doors before he rips them off the hinges." I hiss.

Alcide strolls back to flip the catch and Eric's annoyance calms.

"Sorry." Alcide says easily. "Thought it was safer to keep the doors locked."

"Humph." Is Eric's only response as he comes to stand beside me.

"We will be met here shortly by some of the other Sheriffs." He informs us. "So that we can travel to the Palace together. You will wait here until we return unless Sookie or I contact you with a change of instructions."

"What if someone comes for us?" Nathan asks sensibly.

"Then do what you need to do but attempt to keep me informed." Eric responds crisply. "If you are not here when we return we will make our own arrangements."

Flying. I pale and Eric smiles briefly. Then he shocks me by enveloping my hand gently in his big cool one and tugging me to the rear of the truck.

"Andre . . . ." He says almost apologetically.

With a sigh I lift my arms up like I'm about to be searched at the airport.

"Scent away." I mutter.

He moves in slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on mine and for one horrible yet beautiful moment I think he's going to kiss me. But instead he bends down, coiling himself around me like a snake, lifting me off the floor and burying his face in my neck.

Now it's like I've gone through security at the airport and caught up in the arms of the one person in the world who should be waiting for me on the other side.

I can't latch in to what he's feeling at the moment and for once my own emotions aren't much clearer.

After what feels like forever he sets me gently back on my feet.

"Do not move away from me tonight unless you absolutely have to." He asserts, eyes boring into mine as if to be sure I understand.

"Done." I reply with complete conviction.

He smiles slightly and then takes my hand again, leading me back to the others.

…..

The other three Sheriffs are as sober and serious as Eric. They are conversing out of earshot but it seems clear that they've known each other a long time and have reached the same conclusions about tonight that he has.

Suddenly they are walking back toward us.

"It is time to go." Eric states, taking my hand again.

The others have arrived by car and Eric and I settle into the back of one of them for the drive to the Palace.

There's no more talking and it's a surreal moment as we pull up at the gates to an enormous, jauntily lit mansion, set back in its own grounds and enclosed by a high wall.

There are two vampires on the gate who peer into the car without speaking and then wave us through.

Eric's emotions are tightly controlled and steady. Calm and focussed. I'm trying real hard to keep mine the same.

We pull up by the huge entryway and a human valets dart forward to open our doors and for a moment it's just Eric and I in the car.

"Eric?" I ask quietly and immediately he leans down, presenting his ear at Sookie height. "How many vampires would you expect to be at the Queen's palace?"

"Tonight, twenty to thirty."

"I can sense at least twice that number."

He nods and exits the car, pulling me with him.

Of course, when we enter the ornate marble entrance hall, the first vampire we see is Andre.

"Northman." He seems pleased to see us. "Good of you to come. And your little telepath too."

Eric just nods.

"We're in the conference room." Andre continues. "Settle yourselves in, there are still a few more guests we are waiting for."

Eric heads to the doors beneath the stairs, leaning down to whisper to me as he opens them noisily.

"Sophie Anne is not here. I cannot smell her."

"Do you want me to . . . ."

"Please." He answers tightly as we come to the end of a richly carpeted corridor and enter what appears to be a fairly standard conference room with a long table surrounded by chairs.

He nods to the vampires already there and then holds a chair out for me, settling swiftly in the one beside me and I realise that he's deliberately selected a position where he can see the whole room and the only door.

My crazy Sookie smile is making my face ache as I tune out the low hum of voices and try not to concentrate on anything. Once again I find that filtering out the humans and the weres has become like child's play. There are seventy two voids in the area that I can identify and, worryingly, ten other minds I can feel but not read. They're unlike anything I've ever come across before but rather than repelling me like vampire voids do, these pull at my attention like magnets, threatening to suck me in.

Eric must sense my confusion because he casually reaches out his hand and takes mine, bringing it back to rest lightly on his thigh.

With a great deal of effort I try to stay away from those attractive minds and the distraction proves useful because random vampire thoughts start firing into my brain. Fast and furious.

I barely notice as Eric slides one of the pads of paper on the table in front of me, but I automatically pick up the pencil beside it and start doodling.

Nervous and suspicious. Most of the thoughts I'm picking up are the same ones I'm feeling. I don't know any of these vampires and none of them are doing anything at all to identify their thoughts to me.

More vampires come in bringing more of the same thoughts with them.

A couple of them are thinking how nice I smell, wondering what I taste like and considering their slight awe of Eric. They respect him and they're looking to him to take the lead tonight.

Finally we must all be here because Andre enters with the last couple of vampires and a human guy in a butler's uniform.

"Northman." He says immediately, eyes gleaming maliciously. "The telepath is not needed for this meeting. Smith will take her to the kitchens for a bite to eat until she is needed later."

"No." Eric's refusal is short and straight to the point. "I have already glamoured her."

He indicates my crazy Sookie smile and apparently random doodling.

"She will know nothing of what we discuss tonight."

"Northman . . . ." Andre begins.

"I must insist Andre." Eric's voice is flat and forbidding. "I have brought my asset here at the Queen's request. I will manage her as I see fit, as per my agreement with the Queen."

The others are all watching the two of them square off with interest, enjoyment even, they don't seem to like Andre very much.

_**. . . . . just stake him Northman, I'll speak for you at the trial, if there even is one . . . . .**_

_**. . . . . .Andre's going to get us all killed . . . . .**_

_**. . . . . Charles is right, we should speak to Northman about taking the crown before this degenerate fool brings about our final deaths . . . . .**_

_**. . . . . ten more minutes and then everything will be in place . . . . .**_

I scrawl out 'ten minutes' and then break the point of my pencil.

Lazily and insolently, Eric breaks eye contact with Andre mid stare down and leans over to get me another pencil, his eyes skimming the pad as he does.

"Where is the Queen?" Eric asks when he's settled back in his seat.

"You do not question me Northman." Andre snaps.

Someone chuckles and then coughs.

"I just did." Eric comments idly.

"It's a reasonable question." One of the Sheriffs we travelled in with agrees. "I would like to see for myself that her Majesty is healing well from her injuries."

"She will join us later." Andre fires back, eyes darting around the room. "She is feeding and resting."

"She is weak." Someone else observes.

_**. . . . . this should be quiet straightforward, feels almost like cheating . . . . .**_

That hasn't come from inside this room

"You will not question the ability of your Queen to rule." Andre's voice rises in anger.

I wish I could get in his head, just for a moment.

"We are not questioning anything." Eric observes smoothly. "We would simply like to pay our respects and pledge our support to her Majesty."

Andre glances at his watch.

_**. . . . . almost time . . . . .**_

'Trap.' I write, breaking another pencil.

Eric glances over casually to read and squeezes my hand.

"Let us stop pretending Andre." He drawls. "I am old. My senses are sharp. I know her Majesty is not here."

_**. . . . . shit . . . . .**_

I drop the pencil, hoping Eric is picking up on my sense of urgency, this awareness of time is new to me but we need to be gone. Now.

Actually I might as well have a neon sign over my head. All of a sudden I'm on my feet, pressed into Eric's body. Andre on one side of the conference table with two Sheriffs. The rest of us on the other side, the door side.

"This is treason." Andre growls.

Eric snorts.

"I will have your head for this Northman." Andre vows.

_**. . . . . and the one night I was promised with your telepath, I might even let you watch before you die . . . . .**_

You'll have to kill me first.

_**. . . . . what the fucking hell is that . . . . .**_

The visceral fear in that last vampire's thoughts and the images in his mind freeze my blood.

ERIC! Fairy-human hybrid really wants to go now . . . . Now, now, now, now, now . . . .


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 33 Left Field**

**EPOV**

The Sheriffs loyal to me are forming a protective shield around Sookie and I as we hurry down the carpeted hallway.

The non-human's desperation to be away from here is like a shot of adrenaline direct into my veins. And I am not remotely disposed to question it. Apparently if she told me to insert my in a bucket of hot coals I would comply with alacrity.

For now I am just focussing on getting us away from the Palace.

A battle is erupting around us. I can hear it. The exhortations, the clash of swords, the screaming.

Whoever the vampire attacking the Queen's Palace are fighting it is not just her guards, there is something 'other' here that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Something I should recognise . . . .

We have made it back to the main entry way just in time for the fight to break over us like a tsunami. Our attackers apparently desperate to get inside and away from whatever is assaulting them, could there be two monarchs attempting a takeover at the same time? As the situation turns to hand to hand combat I am struggling to protect the non-human's fragile body with mine. I will need to fly her out of here and back to Herveaux as quickly as possible but first we will need to clear a way outside. I am familiar with the layout of the Palace but there are too many assailants and too many unknowns to attempt a back route. Decided I push her into the alcove underneath the sweep of the marble stairs, watching as she shuffles back and out of sight, calm and focussed even amidst all the bloodshed. If she remains hidden she will not be noticed until the chaos of battle eases.

Whirling away I snatch up a discarded sword and wade into the fray, the defenders easily shifting to take their cue from me.

Once she is safe I will be returning for that treacherous fucker Andre's head. Consequences be damned . . . .

**SPOV**

This definitely qualifies as more excitement than I had wanted in my life. The thoughts rolling off the minds caught up in this situation are more than I can handle and hope to stay calm, so even though it's dangerous, I shut them out. Eric's got enough on his plate without me wigging out on him.

I can't see much from under these stairs and though I should be grateful for small mercies I push forward anyway, I can feel Eric, but I want to be able to see him too. Happy's not the right word, but he's feeling something other than I'd be out there right now, grimly at home maybe. I inch forward a bit more until I can see the lower halves of the struggling mass, and the bodies, Eric's thighs are easy to spot in their pinstripe pants. Just a little further and I can see almost the whole hallway.

Jeez.

The knot in my stomach tightens perceptibly. There are so many of them. How can anyone tell who they are supposed to be fighting? There's blood everywhere, I can smell it, even sense the different sources. Human, vampire and were.

I crawl forward a little further, screaming as arms close around me, hauling me to my feet and pulling me back against a hard chest.

Stupid, stupid, Stackhouse.

Kicking and screaming I try to fight my way loose but it must be a vampire or a were who is holding me because even with Eric's blood I'm just not strong enough. A hand closes firmly over my mouth, clamping my jaws together as I'm pulled inexorably backwards, away from the fight.

Fear and panic explode through me, dousing every nerve ending with painful cold, and across the melee Eric stumbles, narrowly missing having his head cleaved from his body. Appalled I shut down the bond. He knows I'm in trouble, as Thalia said he doesn't need to feel everything I'm feeling. He can track me, if he wants to, if it's not too late . . . .

A cloth suddenly covers my nose and the smell stings my nose, making me gasp and inhale reflexively, striving for clean air.

Across the room Eric is backing away from his opponent, eyes scanning the chaos, completely distracted.

It's getting dark in here . . . .

Another vampire is coming up behind him, lifting his sword for a killing blow . . . .

I can't open my mouth to warn him. The gathering darkness is sapping my strength, locking down my muscles and fogging my brain.

Eric!

I manage to lift my arms, hands reaching toward him, palms outstretched, desperately wanting to warn him, help him.

And then, just as I lose my grip on consciousness, a miracle happens, the vampire behind him is suddenly sent hurtling back as if struck by some invisible force, smashing into the wall and sliding down it.

**NPOV**

Arriving in New Orleans I left Ortel and the guard near the Queen's Palace and slipped away to do a little scouting.

Philadelphia's forces are made up of his own men and mercenaries, confident of their abilities, the element of surprise and superior numbers.

Oh well. Never mind. They will be no match for my guard, however battle rusty they may be. I watched them limbering up and I will need to inflict a harsher training regime on them when we get back to Faery, and possibly a little less stew. By the stars I will not have fat fairies in my guard. Still, I am content that we will be able to prevent anyone taking the Palace.

Of course being able to read the minds of my enemies is a distinct advantage. I loathe reading vampires, they are mainly such base creatures that thinking down to their level gives me a throbbing toothache.

In no time at all I have all the information I need.

Philadelphia is awaiting the outcome of the attack at a house in Baton Rouge with a small number of his men. He has the Queen, her children and her pets with him and as soon as the attack is underway there will be a bloodbath. The Queen's eldest child has been extremely naïve in his dealings with this Victor Madden. Aware that the Queen is too badly injured to defend her crown, the child Andre has made a deal with Madden for safe passage for her and her retinue out of the state, in exchange for luring her Sheriffs into an ambush. My Great Granddaughter is also part of the deal though the fool Andre has at least had the presence of mind to withhold her location pending his Maker's safe passage.

I trust _her _vampire has recognised his summons to New Orleans for the trap it is and has made suitable arrangements for my little ray's safety but I will despatch a guard to BonTemps to keep watch, just to be sure.

Unable to discover any more I return to the others to issue my orders.

They are not to leave witnesses to their involvement and so contact with the Louisiana vampires inside the Palace is to be avoided. Should anything wholly unexpected occur they have my permission to align themselves with my Great Granddaughter's vampire. I will deal with the fallout later.

In the meantime I will remove Philadelphia from the equation. Cosmic pest control. I am mindful of Ortel's warnings that the vampires will not be happy to discover that I have ended one of their regents, but really, what does he think I am going to do? Send a formal apology to the AVL? Mysterious house fires happen all the time and have done for many millennia. Besides this is considerably less risky than waiting to see if Philadelphia's takeover is successful then intervening afterwards when the eyes of the vampire world are on him, this way he will simply disappear like the dear departed Reverend Newlin.

The house in Baton Rouge is easy to find but I am already too late for Sophie Anne and her 'family'. This King must be confident that he no longer requires anything from the child Andre and I feel a twinge of concern for my Great Granddaughter.

Urgent now I cast a binding spell to lock down the house and its occupants, then slip inside.

Three are frozen in the activity of cleaning up after the messy slaughter.

One is frozen in the act of shouting into his cell phone, his face registering his displeasure.

I slide into his mind. Victor Madden, caught receiving a report from the field on how well his takeover is _not_ going this evening.

He is aware his men are being attacked by an unknown but deadly force. And that was his biggest concern until he found he suddenly could not move.

I am here to perform a task so I supress my natural inclination to show off and rifle through his mind. It is a deeply unpleasant place to be and I have no desire to linger. My _disability_, as my little ray calls it, has been honed by thousands of years of practice and every facet of him is laid bare to me. He is indeed duplicitous. And shrewd. And cruel. He is looking forward to taking possession of his new telepathic sex toy and is confident that he will find her. His biggest concern is that my Great Granddaughter's vampire will be the main impediment to his takeover of Louisiana and as such he has other plans in place. The oily specimen is part of this Madden's court now apparently and has revealed the Viking's deeper than usual feelings for his child. The only weakness anyone but the Viking and I are aware of. She will already have been taken as insurance against his possible survival of the battle. And as soon as his death is confirmed she will meet hers.

Now I will need to travel to Bon Temps. My little ray of sunshine will not want her vampire or his child harmed and I will not countenance any risk that she is caught up in this stratagem.

I leave as silently as I arrived, holding them in the binding spell as the secluded house bursts merrily into flames. Waiting to ensure those flames have consumed everything within.

**EPOV**

This is why I have no desire for a crown. This conflict of interests. It takes far longer than I would like, due to the desperation of our attackers, to safely break free from the fighting. And I do not do so unscathed, I have taken some terrible risks to reach this point. Finally I manage to confer with my fellow Sheriff, Charles. Andre is to be secured until I can speak to him. As soon as possible a team is to be sent out to search for the Queen. I will be back.

Then, with only myself to worry about, I fight my way free from the mansion and take off in pursuit of the non-human. I know she is alive and I know where she is, but that is all I have.

**SPOV**

I don't know exactly where I am but I seem to be laying on a saggy couch that's not in New Orleans, the air smells different, earthier.

I can feel Eric, pulsing urgently inside me and instinctively I open the bond. Relief floods both ends and I hitch in a breath.

Anger stabs at me mercilessly, followed by a bit more relief, then determined reassurance and finally, a sharp pinprick of irritation.

Which I interpret to mean; How dare you close the bond in an emergency situation. I am not displeased you are alive. I am coming to get you. Do not close it again. Or possibly, you will be in trouble when I get there.

I don't mind either way. If he's at his jerkiest when he gets here I'll still be pleased to see him.

It's very quiet and I can't hear any movement but nevertheless I open my shields before anything else.

One void. Nothing else for miles.

Satisfied I open my eyes. I'm in a shabby living room, lit only by the moon outside.

A dark haired man is bent over a coffee table, examining the papers arrayed on it.

"Bill?"

He turns to face me, his expression concerned and apologetic.

"What the hell Bill?" I try to sit up but I'm still weak and I flop back down.

Immediately he's beside me, kneeling down, his face a few inches from my own.

"I am sorry Sookie." He breathes. "I could not afford to be delayed. I had to drug you."

"You drugged me?" Well duh, Stackhouse.

He nods tightly, putting on the puppy dog eyes.

"Are you crazy?" I gasp. "Eric will have a _fit_. A _huge_ one. We're bonded. You're not supposed to even touch me, let alone kidnap me."

"I am rescuing you."

"I didn't need rescuing. I was with Eric."

"Sookie." Was he always so patronising when he spoke to me in the past? "Vampire politics are in play, you are safer here with me."

"Do you mean the takeover?"

He blinks.

Eric always blinks when he's surprised too.

"The King of Philadelphia is making an attempt on Louisiana." He reveals carefully. "Eric will be killed and you will become his asset. His pet. He does not treat his pets well."

"Is this what you were warning me about before?"

He doesn't answer, instead he just manages to look shiftier.

Stuff that Bill. I want information and you're going to give it to me whether you want to or not. Damsel in distress style I reach out to grip his hand, staring into his eyes pleadingly. His face softens and I harden my heart in response.

"Eric's going to come."

"No, Sookie, he is not." Bill assures me. "One way or another my King has ensured his final death."

"Won't your King be upset that you've run off with his new asset?"

And we're off . . . .

He has a plan to get me out of the country quickly. The new King of Louisiana will be busy immediately post takeover. He will be expecting to have to look for me, that such a valuable asset would have been hidden. It's Bill's chance to spirit me away and hide me more effectively. Does he even realise his plan makes me as much of a prisoner as Philadelphia would have done? He genuinely thinks we're going to live out our lives in peaceful bliss. He's thinking about turning me so that no one can take me away.

I can't help it, I snatch my hand back, I don't need the contact now to stay in his mind.

Does he know me so little? How can he think I want that?

My fear spikes and I feel Eric's angry response.

The rest of his plot is running through Bill's mind, like a mental replay for anything he's missed. I've noticed the fact he's got no intention of answering my question, he doesn't think I need to know.

He does love me. But he's seriously got the concept all mixed up. It's terrifying. Loss of control over my life, my on-going nightmare.

There's so much I don't want to know but I refuse to pull out of his mind while it's open to me.

His Maker, Lorena, she made him tell her about me and his mission for the Queen. She used the information to bargain her way out of her own problems, a chronic lack of self-control and a deeply held contempt for humans, several monarchs were threatening her with the true death. At first she thought my telepathy would be enticement enough to those she was indebted to. Then it became public knowledge and I bonded with Eric. Her information became less valuable and her influence less pervasive. But I can see her in Bill's mind, using his feelings for me to bend him to her will. He still believes there is an all pervading threat to Eric and me, even though I can see no hard evidence for it in his mind. The King of Philadelphia has certainly coveted me for his own but I can clearly see, even if Bill can't, that he would never have threatened Eric directly for me. He's as afraid of him as everyone else seems to be . . . .

Oh my god. There was never any grand plot? Only Bill's fears and Lorena's lies. She's been seeking to control him, manipulating him all along. She's _jealous_?

In lieu of answering my question Bill ghosts his fingers over my throat.

They're cold, bringing goose bumps out on my flesh.

"I need you to trust me Sookie." He breathes.

I can't control my shiver, he really _is_ crazy if he thinks that's going to happen any time soon . . . .

And I'm so deep in his mind I don't notice the other void approaching until the door swings open behind his shoulder.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 34 Twisted Sister**

**SPOV**

In an echo of the night I met my Great Grandfather he whirls away from me into a protective stance, fangs clicking into place.

His thoughts are chaotic but even so my spirits plummet. She's his Maker, Lorena, and like me he can see nothing positive in the arrival of the dark haired, dark hearted, vampire.

"Bill." She shakes her head sadly, leaning back against the door she's closed softly behind her. "You disappoint me. The King suggested you would do this but I told him you would never endanger yourself, nor betray your kind, for a _human_. And now look what I find."

"Lorena . . . ." His voice is dark and silky, like an involuntary reaction.

"Step away from her Bill." She commands with a timbre to her voice I recognise from Godric's when he ordered Eric from the Dallas roof. "And stand still."

He complies immediately, moving to the side and casting a pained glance at me.

Casually she leans her sword against an armchair, like a visiting aunt setting down her hat.

Brilliant. I am in so much trouble. A crazy bitch, I saw her in his mind, and a vampire who can only do what she says.

"It is a good thing I decided to come down here to protect you from your own stupidity." She glides forward to trail her long finger nails over Bill's chest, causing him to shudder. "Victor will be furious if he discovers you have run off with his eagerly awaited new telepath."

I'm still in Bill's mind and it's not a comforting place but I dare not back out as I watch the dynamic I can see remembered in his head play out in front of me. If a person really had a little devil on one shoulder and little angel on the other she'd be his devil. She's always been his devil. The one he's worked so hard, with such limited success, to repress.

Ick.

Their relationship is so twisted.

"Lorena, _please_ . . . ." Puppy dog eyes.

"Come now Bill." Her voice is dark and low as she circles him, running her hands lightly over his body and purring as his muscles twitch and jump in reaction. "It's been such a long time since we've played one of our little games. You used to enjoy them so much, and you've waited so long for her to give you what want, my poor boy . . . ."

"Lorena! _Please_." He sounds desperate.

Oh god the images in his head. The things they've done. It's beyond depraved. And I can't miss that my face and body are substituted in some of those memories. He's not just fighting her desires. He's fighting his own. I can't believe I almost came to love him, I had no idea . . . .

"Bill." She whispers soothingly, coming to a stop in front of him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I can help you. You know I can. Victor will never forgive this so we must remove all trace of your actions. But that does not mean that you, _we_, cannot have our fun first."

"Ungh." He grunts, jerking his body into hers.

Yep, Stackhouse, he's not going to be putting up much of a fight.

"My poor boy." She coos. "I know your _needs_. I've always known what _you_ need."

Her fingers are combing through the hair at the back of neck, I can hear the nails scraping against his scalp and the fabric of their clothes rubbing as their bodies start to move together like snakes climbing a rope.

He moans and their mouths crash together, their noisy, needy, violent kiss is about as unsexy as I could ever imagine but the wave of disgust I feel at being witness to it causes me to shudder and the ripples chase the last of the drug from my muscles and the horrified stupor from my mind.

This is _insane_.

Her tearing his shirt off with quick hands covers the sound of me easing to my feet. In the quiet of the house the sound of her fingernails transferring their attention to his chest, combing through the dark hairs there, feels like its loud enough to cover my cautious backward steps toward the window. But sadly it only feels that way . . . .

She frees his mouth from hers, turning her head to me with an evil laugh, fixing me in place with her darkly glowing eyes. With one finger resting on his chest she faces me completely.

"Oh _my_, she _is_ beautiful Bill." She concedes, looking me up and down as she licks her lips, flicking her tongue over the point of one fang. "So lush and smooth. Such a delicious scent. And yet you've resisted her for so long. I admire that darling, I really do, such a _strong_ vampire I made."

She turns back to him and his whole body is vibrating. And not so much with a desire to protect me. It's so easy for her twist him to her will . . . .

She darts over to me and unconsciously I step back, not that it matters, she easily captures me and fastens her lips over mine, her cold tongue forcing its way into my mouth.

"Mm." She hums into me. "She is _tasty_."

"_Ungh_." Bill groans with need.

Chuckling at his reaction she drops me negligently back onto the couch I've just escaped from.

"I'd like to taste the rest of her my darling." Lorena sighs. "But she's wearing too many clothes, can you help me?"

Bill groans and shudders again. Harder this time.

"Help me." That certain timbre is back in her voice and suddenly his quivering body is hovering over mine, his hands tearing away my jacket, bra and blouse.

"Ah, ah." Lorena chides as his mouth lowers to my sternum. "Mommy gets to taste first, you know the rules."

He arches away from me but doesn't release me from the couch. And I'm so fucking scared I can barely even think . . . . Eric, please, I really need you . . . . I can't do this on my own . . . . not that I won't try . . . . . I can interfere with a human, why not Bill . . . . But it's not like he's been glamoured, he's more _hardwired_ to do whatever she commands . . . .

"All of her Bill, we want to see and taste all of her . . . ."

And my pencil skirt is gone, leaving me in one of Pam's expensive thongs, a pair of sensible heels and abject terror . . . .

Bill, the vampire I knew is totally gone, in his place is a beast held only in check by his Maker. His saliva dripping down his fangs and splashing onto my face . . . .

It's too late, there's nothing I can get a hold of, my mind is scrabbling for purchase on his madly spinning void . . . .

All I've got left is my limited ability to resist them physically. And resist them I will, with every last pathetic thing I have . . . .

I make a break for freedom, surprising them both when I spill Bill onto the floor and hurl myself over the back of the couch.

Lorena laughs and he growls. It's a feral sound . . . .

I back up against the wall, covering my breasts with my arms, aware suddenly of my blood being forced through my veins by my panicked heart. How enticing that probably sounds . . . .

Behind Lorena the door blasts open, banging into the wall and tumbling, smashed, to the floor.

Eric's murderous fury infects me and I snatch up the first weapon I can lay my hands on, an ornately carved dining chair, brandishing it in Bill's advancing face even as I wish for a stake.

"Kill her!" Lorena snarls, launching herself at Eric.

Immediately the two of them dissolve into a barely discernible blur but I only have eyes for Bill coming for me, flat black eyes flicking between my face and my breasts. If the circumstances were different his inability to focus fully on his Maker's instructions would actually be funny . . . .

I wave the chair at him.

Someone, I'm assuming Lorena because of the pitch, screams. Bill barely flinches as he continues to advance on me, his fangs still down. And that's when I realise, he's actually going to do this, he'll kill me and his only real regret in this moment will be that he won't get to fuck me first.

Of course he rips the chair out of my hands in an instant, hurling it over his shoulder without looking, his hands lashing out and closing around my neck painfully before I can even blink.

I close my eyes.

Am I giving up? I can't fight him off, he's too strong. Already I can feel my oxygen supply drying up. Why am I so calm? I'm a Stackhouse, and a Brigant, whatever that means. A self-proclaimed non-quitter.

Instinctively I struggle but Bill just tightens his grip mercilessly and I can feel whatever resides in my neck preparing to collapse under the pressure as he presses me up against the wall.

Eric's going to be a real jerk about coming all this way for nothing if I die . . . . .

Eric. His warm pulse inside me is becoming urgent and hot. I can hear the clash of metal. Loud and insistent. And I'm fiercely sorry that I can't do more than stand here and let poor Bill kill me.

_Fiercely_ sorry . . . . on the verge of something . . . .

My eyes snap open to latch onto Bill's as he dispassionately proceeds to strangle the life out of me.

And all of a sudden I'm back in his mind again.

Feeling and seeing the sudden snap as Lorena's hold on him is broken like an overstressed steel cable.

"Sookie." He gasps, releasing his grip and lurching a step away from me.

His eyes are wide, fixed on mine, suddenly expressive enough to convey all the things he's about to say . . . .

Instinctively I shove him away from me with both hands . . . . screaming as a metallic flash severs his head from his shoulders.

It seems to hang in the air for a moment, compelled by his need to speak. And then it and his body explode in a shower of blood and gore, the splashes and clumps trying to cling to me in a way he's no longer able to.

I drag my eyes up to meet Eric's as he lowers his huge sword, resting the point on the floor so he can lean on it.

And that's how we stay, for an inordinate amount of time, our bond open but strangely _empty_ . . . .

"Are you alright?" He asks eventually, bringing me back to the harsh reality of the moment.

"Yes." I answer as honestly as I can.

"They did not harm you, in any way?" He presses, studying my face carefully, almost being gentlemanly about not looking at the rest of me.

"No." I reassure him quickly when I realise what he's asking.

You just sliced my ex-boyfriend's head off without a second thought. You didn't know he was about to attack you instead, you couldn't read his mind . . . .

My focus sharpens and I look at him properly. He's covered in blood too. Suit jacket long gone, shirt all but destroyed, pants not much better. And I realise it's mostly _his _blood even as I notice he's swaying slightly and relying on the sword to hold him upright.

He needs my help, that's why he's not letting me feel anything.

Without a word, and still holding his eyes, I advance on him, taking away the sword which is so heavy I barely manage to keep hold of it, and resting it against the back of the couch. Then, our eyes still locked, I place my hand on his chest and push him gently back until his legs hit the armchair which has somehow arrived in the middle of the room during the chaos.

"Sit." I order.

He resists. I push his chest harder. He sits.

And, Gran forgive me, I straddle his lap, sweeping my hair back over my shoulder to expose my neck.

"No." He objects. His voice harsh and forbidding. "I do not need to feed."

"Fine. But if any other vampires turn up here you should consider that I can barely even lift that sword you were carrying, never mind attack someone with it." I know better than to point out directly the state he's in, so I'm going with logic.

"Sookie . . . ." A little less harsh, a little less forbidding.

The bond is in chaos so I tweak it down to the bare minimum, somehow not able to close it completely.

"Eric. I never thought I'd live to see the day I actually had to persuade a vampire to drink my blood. Its not rocket science, if you want me to spoon feed you like a baby I'm telling you now I wouldn't even know where to start."

His chest rumbles in a low growl as his hands fasten around my waist, long fingers practically meeting at my spine. Cool, not cold.

Like before he leans down to skim his nose repeatedly over the skin on my neck, seeming to breathe me in and soothe me at the same time, before his fangs slide painlessly into my flesh.

The only sounds are his deep slow swallows and my own slightly harsh breathing. His hands kneading my body in time with his jaw working at my neck are our only movement. To keep myself calm I close my eyes and count sheep. A mere twenty seven sheep later he retracts his fangs with a snick, moving his tongue purposefully over his marks to get every last drop of blood and heal the wounds before wrapping his arms tightly around my back to pull me flush against his chest, my forehead resting in the crook of his neck.

"You are safe." He decides after a few moments and I nod in agreement.

I am also practically naked but I'm not bringing that up until it's absolutely necessary.


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 35 Just the Two of Us**

**SPOV**

I think I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know Eric is carefully tucking what is left of his shirt around me. There's an awkward moment half way, when were skin to skin in the chest department, and then it's done.

He fastens what buttons he can quickly, his eyes fixed resolutely on the window, his whole demeanour _frosty_.

Pattern. I still wish I knew what to make of it.

The silence is heavy.

Should I apologise? Thank him?

I should definitely pry away his arms, which are loosely circling me now, and get up off his lap.

Instead I drop my head back down to his shoulder and close my eyes, pathetically grateful when he doesn't push me away.

**EPOV**

I do not know precisely why I am still sat here when there is much that requires my attention and I must let Pam know what has transpired. I can feel the night slipping away from me yet still I sit.

The non-human is sleeping. Her soft exhales blowing across my chest and her warm body against mine are apparently part of the spell of inertia.

Of course I came after her, if any harm befalls her my life will be forfeit, so of course I did. And the fear and desperation I felt when I realised she was in trouble and I could not get to her immediately, is also completely understandable, under the circumstances. I do not wish to die.

So, if that absence of fear is what is causing me to sit here now and allow myself to mentally re-group, I should accept it. It is not weakness, merely good long term strategy.

I can also choose to ignore the fact that my hand is now beneath the shirt she is wearing, my thumb gently stroking the silky skin of her lower back. It is out of character. I am vampire, bloodlust segues into plain old lust as naturally as water flowing downhill. She is practically naked and she freely gave me her blood. If I am not attending to my responsibilities it should at least be because I am finally giving into my desire for her.

The blunt instrument trauma is starting in on my skull again.

We will need to leave soon. I _must_ focus on the situation at hand.

The attackers were Madden's. He has attempted a takeover and it has failed. Has he returned to Philadelphia or does he have other plans in place?

Where is the Queen? What has Andre or Madden done with her, does she live?

Who was attacking Madden's forces from outside? I saw no sign of them when I left. Were they perhaps from Stan, has he actioned his takeover of the state?

I need to torture Andre before I kill him.

I need to find somewhere safe for the non-human.

I need to get out of this chair and attend to my responsibilities.

We need to return to New Orleans.

However it is now too late to do that tonight. I will have to find somewhere to go to ground, somewhere she will be safe until I rise. Fortunately I have made it my business to be fully familiar with all the terrain between Shreveport and New Orleans, I know just the place.

Lifting the non-human I place her gently on the couch.

A quick check reveals there is no food in the house but I gather up blankets from the bedrooms, it will be cold for her in the cave.

With her securely wrapped in the blankets I carry her outside and take to the sky.

"We're flying aren't we?" She whispers after a few minutes, tensing in my arms.

"Yes."

She sighs and relaxes slightly.

"Are we going back to New Orleans?"

"Not tonight. There is not time."

"Then where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

**SPOV**

I'm too numb to really care that I'm flying again. Too numb to think about what happened or how I feel about it.

Eric says were going somewhere safe but I don't care where it is as long as he's not leaving me there without him. For now at least I'm only going to feel safe with him.

The bond is still muted and I'm more conscious of his presence pulsing inside me than I am his emotions. It doesn't feel so bad.

Everything feels strange. Maybe I'm not numb, maybe the events of tonight have just temporarily reduced the world down to a bubble where only Eric and I exist.

Or I could just be in shock, it would certainly be a normal reaction to what's just happened.

Eric's arms are tight around me and though I know he won't drop me I'm grateful for the unspoken confirmation so I just let myself drift.

Finally I realise we've touched down and I open my eyes as he sets me on my feet and steps back.

Flying and the musty blankets I'm wrapped in haven't prepared me for the sudden need for balance and I start to fall.

He catches me easily and straightens me up again, leaving one hand on my shoulder just to be sure.

And suddenly the heavy silence is back. There's a strange pressure building in my chest but I still know whether I should be apologising to him or thanking him, I just feel like I should be doing something to diffuse this weird intensity that's crowding our bubble and threatening to expel all the air.

Unwilling to look at him I focus instead on his chest, the wounds are healed and apart from the gore he's as perfect as ever. I want to touch him.

I was happy to touch Bill when he touched me, it felt right, but I never had this overwhelming urge. If I weren't trapped in this woollen cocoon I could reach up to his hand on my shoulder and trace down the muscles of his forearm until I reach the crook of his elbow, will his skin be softer there? I could then move up the flexed muscle of his arm, over his until my palm is resting on his huge shoulder, it would be such a short drop from there to rest it on his pecs. I'd probably need both hands to be fair. Then I could slide them down his torso, letting my fingers roam across his ribs and dip in and out of the muscles of his abdomen. Would they flutter under my touch or stay rock solid, like a statue?

_Jesus_.

My swallow is thick and heavy, like the atmosphere.

His hand moves up from my shoulder, sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck, cupping the back of my head as he pulls me gently into his chest.

My lips are against his sternum, and god help me, I kiss his cool skin.

He shudders and his other arm coils around my waist, pulling me in tighter. His chest is moving now. He's breathing, deep and slow. The Eric light inside me adjusts to match it perfectly, my heartbeat following suit.

Time and we stand still. Then his hand begins to flex in my hair to the same steady beat, his fingers massaging my scalp and some invisible force inches my head up to look at him. His eyes are screwed tight shut, a pronounced 'v' creasing the skin between them. Jason used to look like that when Gran was putting iodine on a cut or scrape.

Confused and strangely hurt I try to pull away from him but his eyes snap open, boring into mine as his hand pulls my head back, baring my throat to him almost painfully. For a moment the Eric light, my heartbeat and our breathing are in wild discord and then his mouth slams down over mine and we're in perfect synchronicity again. His lips are cool and soft but they have mine completely in their thrall, moving them however and wherever he sees fit. And I feel warm, warm all over. He sucks my lower lip between his, tugging at it gently and I moan, struggling against the restricting blankets, giddy with the need to touch him. My moan causes him to tighten his grip and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, parting my lips and stroking mine, passing over it to probe rhythmically into every part of my mouth he can reach. The warmth is melting my bones and I sag against him. I want . . . . I want frightening things . . . . bad things . . . . I want _him_. I want to feel his skin against mine, I want to feel his weight on me, his hands on me, I want him inside me . . . .

Abruptly it's over and I open my eyes, my mouth hanging slightly open, my body arched backward by his hand in my hair. He is curled over me his face tilted upward, eyes narrowed on the horizon.

"The sun is coming." His voice is flat and inflectionless.

"Eric, I . . . ."

He sets me upright, tugging at the blankets so I can release my arms.

"This way." He commands.

And I scurry after him, taking in the trees surrounding us and the wooded incline we're heading up that suddenly reveals a cave entrance. He ducks down and disappears inside and I trot after him, minus the ducking.

He stops and I almost crash into his back.

"We will be safe here. I will rest further down the cave."

He leans his sword against the rough rock wall, refusing to look at me.

"Stay inside. Do not wander off. I can protect you if needs be, if you are inside the cave. However, we _will_ be safe here, there will be no need."

"Eric . . . ."

But he's gone, swallowed by the darkness and a bend in the tunnel.

I'm still uncomfortably warm. Hell I'm just uncomfortable. What . . . . what just happened? I felt . . . . I . . . .

Woman up Stackhouse.

I wanted Eric. Really, really, badly. I'm still aching with it now.

This is incorrect. I wouldn't sleep with Bill because I didn't love him but if Eric hadn't run away I would have been on my back with my legs in the air without a second thought. What's _wrong_ with me?

And he did run away didn't he? There's not a ray of sunlight in sight and my new sense of time tells me I've still got about ten minutes.

Wow. He's a horny vampiric sex machine and he ran away from me like a frightened little boy.

I think that sinking feeling is my sexual allure crawling away on its belly.

Not that I'm not glad. Getting frisky with Eric would have been a very, very, bad thing to do, I know this. I am _not_ a fangbanger and just because I fed him does not entitle him to the 'entertainment' to go with his 'travel rations'.

The very idea.

The nerve of that jerk.

He'd better never _ever_ attempt to lay his lips on me again or I swear to God I _will_ stake him.

Not knowing what else to do I curl up in mouth of the cave with his sword, like a guard dog, and drift off to sleep.

**EPOV**

I rise slightly early, moving as far up the cave as I can until the last rays of the sun are gone.

My mind already occupied with what must be done this night and with _her_.

She is asleep, curled tightly in on herself, with one hand outside the blankets clutching the hilt of the sword. Like she is attempting to guard us.

Even in sleep her face is pinched and I would describe her emotions as the same since she does not appear to have closed down our bond. I have grown accustomed to feeling her these last few days, it is not wholly unpleasant, though I did not enjoy her hurt last night, nor the knowledge that I caused it. Is that how I will lose this contest between us, because I do not like how it makes her feel when I win? Did I win last night? I wanted her so much it was physically painful and I know she felt the same. Yes, I am fairly certain the fact that I ended it and walked away from her makes me the victor of this particular tussle.

I need get a grip. This is not an innocent game of seduction without consequences, we are working together at the moment but that does not change the fact that I have been forced into caring for her and she is withholding her true nature from me. She is still a danger and this is clearly a long term threat.

She wakes as the night settles fully over us.

Her eyes home in on mine unerringly, despite the dark. "Jerk." She mutters through gritted teeth, knowing full well I can hear her.

I raise my eyebrow but she ignores me, scrambling to her feet and tucking the blankets around her toga style.

"You are not in a good mood." I observe dryly.

"No coffee." She snaps.

"There will be coffee in New Orleans, Sophie Anne always keeps a well-stocked kitchen for her pets."

"Then let's get on with it shall we?" She orders, eyes flashing.

I snatch up my sword and sweep her into my arms, eliciting a squeal from her, striding out of the cave and immediately taking flight.

…..

I circle the Queen's mansion, carefully studying the scene below. Human law enforcement are patrolling outside the walls but do not appear to be making any attempt to get inside. Most of the signs of recent battle have been removed from the grounds. There is no sign of trouble.

"The humans know something happened but are quite happy to stay out of it and let us deal with it." The non-human says suddenly.

"There are about thirty voids, ten humans and twenty weres inside." She continues. "Alcide and his pack are there. Everyone is tense but there hasn't been any more trouble. They're waiting for you before they do anything."

"Thank you."

She shrugs indifferently and I supress a sigh. I wish I could rewind time and do last night differently, not that I am sure how, but this is definitely easier when she is not annoyed with me.

I land on the front steps and carry her inside. The ornate entryway is alive with activity which ceases as soon as we enter.

Herveaux comes forward immediately, his pack flanking him.

"See that she gets everything she needs . . . ."

I hand her over into Herveaux's arms.

". . . . then bring her straight back to me."

He nods and I withdraw my arms so he can carry her after the human who is already hovering to guide them upstairs to a suite.

When I turn back the Sheriffs and the Queen's officials are watching me expectantly.

My distraction with the non-human has prevented me from preparing properly for this.

Fuck.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 36 Getting Down to Business**

**NPOV**

Of course the Viking's club is empty when I get there. So of course I will now have to actually _search_ for his child.

First, however, I rescue Thalia, who is trapped within.

I find her in the hidden basement, entombed in a silver coffin.

She smiles when I wrench off the lid, like we had been playing hide and seek.

"Prince's pleasure to rescue Thalia again after all this time?"

"Apparently so." I chuckle.

I offer her my arm and haul her out of the coffin, quickly stripping away the silver chains she has been bound in. She sways on her feet, wincing as the burns on her skin heal.

"Where is the Sheriff's child?"

"Gone, taken." She swallows thickly. "Our humans glamoured to trap us with silver."

She shakes her head, annoyed. "Such a simple plan, Thalia not worthy of Eric's trust."

"Where is my Great Granddaughter?"

"New Orleans, she summoned with Eric."

Calm. Remain calm.

I perform a summons of my own and Ortel pops up beside me.

"Your Majesty?"

"My Great Granddaughter?" I demand.

"Safe, the Viking has her, two of the guard are shadowing them."

"The attack?"

"Over. We were not seen. The Princess was taken by the one you call the 'oily little specimen'. We did not even realise she had been there until her vampire took off after her."

"Collect the guard sent to Bon Temps and return everyone but the guards on the Princess to Faery. I will be back shortly."

"Majesty." He nods, popping away.

I return my attention to Thalia, she is still weak but I am sure I can do what needs to be done without her assistance.

"We must find the child."

She nods and I grip her hand, popping us both to the roof of the club.

Fortunately I have been in close proximity to her once, in Rhodes, so I am able to discern her scent and follow it.

I am not a fairy from a child's book, I do not have wings and I cannot fly so instead I pop us to various points along the scent trail, a bit like playing Battleships, until the scent is strong and fresh meaning we are close enough to walk the rest of the way.

She is being held in a shack deep in the woods.

Unfortunately it is corrugated iron. I cannot go in there. Fairies and iron do not mix.

Beside me Thalia is still in no condition to affect the other vampire's rescue.

Stars!

This is extremely inconvenient.

"Thalia, you will need to take some of my blood."

She blinks at me and then turns her attention to the shack.

"Iron." She realises, looking back at me and trying to read my face. "You would give a vampire your blood to save another vampire?"

"I am old Thalia, and quite possibly going a little senile, are we rescuing her or not?" My voice is testy, I have become unaccustomed to being questioned.

She nods, dropping her gaze and before I can rethink my action I raise my wrist. The neck thing is just creepy in my opinion and besides, she cannot reach, she is a teeny tiny vampire, and I am certainly not leaning down.

It does not hurt but nevertheless she is a vampire and I am a full blooded fairy, after a few moments I have to gently but firmly disengage her.

She looks up into my eyes and I laugh quietly.

Her own are wide as saucers, pupils madly dilated and almost unfocussed.

"How do you feel?"

She giggles. "Strong. Invincible. Amorous."

Her voice drops on the last word and she steps closer to me, cupping my nether regions suggestively.

Oh. Ah. Awkward.

"Thalia." I huff, disentangling my nether regions form her hand and holding her wrists to keep her at arm's length. "Not at this particular moment. And _not_ with me."

"Aw, Niall." She pouts. "You know you are a very sexy fairy."

"Thank you. But Thalia, the Viking's child, Pamela?"

She narrows her eyes at me and for a moment I think she is going to launch herself at me but then, with no small amount of relief, I can see awareness creeping back into her face. She is old, it will not take too long to master the narcotic effect of my blood.

After a few heartbeats she steps back from me and removes her sword from her back.

"Are you ready?" I study her intently, I do not want her going in there 'under the influence' and making the situation worse. I can enter the shack if I absolutely have to but it would be extremely dangerous and foolhardy.

She nods and scowls, transferring her attention to the ramshackle structure where she can hear the three vampires who have the Viking's child.

"Just throw them out here." I heft my own sword. "And I will deal with them."

She attacks so swiftly she punches a hole in the iron sheet like a cartoon character. Immediately a vampire flies back out, sword flailing uselessly and I cut him in half before his body can even hit the ground.

There is some growling. Thalia has a chilling growl, incongruous in such an innocent looking little package.

The corrugated iron walls shake violently and a few bulges appear.

Then the double doors open and two vampires fly out backwards. Thalia follows, stepping lightly over the debris, swishing her sword with menace as they stumble to their feet.

"Thalia not like when woman tortured." She hisses. "Thalia not like be locked in silver filled coffin."

The two vampires are trying to calculate their chances of escaping such an obviously strong opponent when I cut them down from behind.

Thalia darts back inside to retrieve the Viking's child, laying her down on the grass at my feet with an apologetic smile.

Silver poisoning.

Fabulous.

For thousands of years I have been the scourge of vampires and yet suddenly, tonight, I am a one fairy blood bank.

The irony that I cannot take an iron supplement is not lost on me.

**SPOV**

The whole shower, coffee and food thing turned out to be something of a comedic turn.

Alcide and his pack were concerned with my safety and well-being, everyone else, including the vampires, were concerned with making themselves as useful as possible to the new King's human. There were _five_ different kinds of coffee.

Everyone seems certain that Sophie Anne is dead and Eric will become King.

Apparently the only person not keen on the idea is Eric. Between slipping into the minds of the vampires who are trying to convince him, and Eric's increasing desperation to find an escape route, my own mood has brightened considerably. Even though I know through the bond that he really wants me to join him I take my own sweet time drinking coffee and getting dressed. I can work just as easily from up here.

I accidentally slipped into Andre's mind at one point. To describe it as broken is an understatement. The Queen _is_ dead, but there doesn't seem to be any pressing need to share that news with Eric just yet.

I'm not really mad at him anymore. I just had a perfectly normal reaction to having my life saved by a handsome man, it's not his fault the resultant rush of hormones were all on one side. I'm glad he had the sense to break it off when mine had apparently gone absent without leave, our relationship is complicated enough as it is.

And anything else I may feel on the subject of Eric is my problem and not his.

Alcide finally managed to shoo everyone out of the room so that we could fill each other in on what happened last night. The noise of the battle could be heard across town with supernatural ears and they'd arrived at the Palace just as the defenders were mopping up, so they waited, assuming that if Eric and I were okay we'd be back. He was predictably outraged when I told him about Bill and his crazy Maker, pleased to know that Eric ended them both.

I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Bill had reverted to his normal self at the end, when Eric lopped his head off. So I should regret it I suppose, be mad at Eric for being hasty, but I don't think I do and I'm not. He was going to try to kill Eric and all I can bring myself to care about is that Bill's gone and neither of us will ever have to deal with him again. Jesus, I'm getting less human every minute.

"We'd better get down stairs." I sigh eventually. "The 'Soon to be Crowned' is getting angsty."

"Yeah." Alcide chuckles. "They were already planning the coronation while they waited for him to come back. There's a lot of respect here for your Sheriff."

"He's not my anything." I huff quietly as we make our way out of the suite and my new self-appointed entourage swing into step behind us.

"If you say so." Alcide chuckles again.

We find most of the action in what must be the largest office come library I've ever seen. There's a desk the size of two pool tables across one corner, couches and chairs arranged around the carpeted floor space and the walls are lined on three sides with floor to ceiling bookshelves, the fourth is a wall of thick curtains, probably hiding part of the range of huge glass doors opening onto the grounds I saw from the air.

Eric is sort of hemmed into one of the corners by a group of the other Sheriffs.

I pause in the doorway and he looks up immediately, favouring me with a brief, strained, half smile before jumping back into the conversation.

I don't really understand his reluctance, surely it's better to be a King than a Sheriff, safer? And being in charge seems to come naturally to him, he'd make a good King.

My following elects to stay outside the room and Alcide and I wander in alone.

"What do we do now?" He whispers.

"Look like we belong I guess."

We gravitate over to the desk area where a group of vampires and humans are making and receiving phone calls on the bank of phones haphazardly set up there. Information and questions seem to be coming in at breakneck speed and from time to time one of the group breaks free and bears a written message over to one of the other groups.

Alcide and I roll our eyes at each other and settle into one of the couches.

My eyes find Eric again. He looks completely calm and in control, only our bond and my learned ability to read his face, lets me know he's on the verge of having the vampire equivalent of a freak out. He really, really doesn't want to be King but based on what's going on in the minds around him I don't think he's going to get much choice, unless of course you can just say no to something like that. Someone's provided him with a new shirt. It's too tight so he's left it unbuttoned. His chest is the last thing I need to be looking at, so I'll be looking away any minute now. Really, there's nothing to see here, I've seen it before, more than once, it's very attractive, but it's just a chest.

Oh hellfire and damnation. Apparently once I've started on the carnal wants where Eric's concerned they're clearly not going to go away easily.

Our eyes brush and I look away, suddenly fascinated with the weave of the couch, this is not going to be embarrassing at all.

"Are you alright?" Alcide asks quietly.

"No." I sigh. "I'm an idiot."

One of the phones rings and a vampire snatches it up.

"Palace." He snaps waspishly.

Pause.

"The K-Sheriff is busy."

Pause.

"His human is available, would it be sufficient to convey the information to her?"

Pause.

"Ms Stackhouse, Area Five wish to speak with you."

He holds out the phone and I get up and go over to take it, unable to hide my surprise.

"Hello?"

"Princess?"

"Thalia. What's happening, is everyone okay?"

"Yes and no."

"Um?"

"Is Eric well?"

"Define 'well'?" I query as another wave of his extreme frustration hits me.

"What is the problem?" She asks sharply.

"They're trying to make him King." I whisper and she breaks out into peals of laughter.

"That is delicious." She snorts when her laughter subsides. "Poor Godric would have loved to see this day."

"What's happening in Shreveport?" I press.

"We were attacked by Madden's men. They wanted Pam as leverage against Eric. Niall rescued us."

"Niall?" I squeak, just about managing to keep my voice low.

"Yes, Niall." She confirms. "Pam has silver poisoning and Niall gave her his blood."

"Is she okay?" I gasp, worried for her and Eric.

"As well as she can be. Fairy blood has considerably decreased her healing time but she is still likely to be sick for several weeks."

"Oh god." I groan.

"You will need to tell him but I suggest you choose the moment wisely."

"Thalia . . . ."

"Sookie. You will need to tell him everything, Niall's involvement cannot be hidden once he sees Pam, she reeks of fairy. I do too for that matter, he had to give me some of his blood as well."

"Niall's blood doesn't smell of fairy." I object, suddenly very scared.

"Not in Niall apparently, but it certainly seems to once it's inside a vampire. The local vampire usually avoid me but tonight I am like catnip. It is extremely irritating."

"Thalia, Eric and I aren't exactly in a position to discuss anything that personal at the moment."

"Then you will need to engineer such a position." She responds easily. "I do not know what you are afraid of, he will never hurt you or abandon you, Eric is extremely loyal to the people he cares about. Did he not rescue you from that cockroach Compton last night?"

"How do you know that?"

"Niall knew, it was his fairies that thwarted Madden's takeover."

Now my head is spinning, what the hell is going on . . . .

"Just tell him Princess, you are not a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination and it seems to me that with Niall's determination to be involved in your life he is going to find out in the end anyway. I have to go, the pussy cats are circling again."

Click.

Fuck.


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 37 Taking Down The Scenery**

**SPOV**

Thank god the bond is muted at the moment, but even so my mental turmoil has attracted Eric's attention and my eyes are automatically drawn to him in response.

He raises an eyebrow.

I fake a reassuring smile.

He turns back to his increasing heated conversation and I scuttle back to Alcide on the couch.

"What's happening?" He asks quietly, handing me a gin and tonic which seems to have appeared from nowhere.

"I need to talk to Eric."

"Good luck." He observes wryly, watching the Sheriffs plead with said vampire.

I take a slug of gin. It doesn't go terribly well with five different kinds of coffee and one dose of nerves.

"Do you think I should just go up and tell him I need to see him?"

"Beats me." Alcide replies with an easy laugh. "You know him better than I do. Sure looks like he needs rescuing though."

Yes, but I'm not sure I should rescue him. The state has no monarch and everyone involved would very much like the Sheriff of Area Five to quit stalling and get on with accepting the crown. He knows it's inevitable, I can feel it, but it's almost like he's waiting for someone to ride in and save the day. It won't be the Queen though, perhaps I should start with telling him that and see where it goes from there . . . .

I hand my gin to Alcide and make my way over to the knot of Sheriffs. Eric has his back to me but he senses my approach and turns.

"Master, if I may have a word with you please?"

"Excuse me gentleman." He says, turning back to them briefly. "I need to consult with my asset."

Ignoring any response they might have he places his hand in the small of my back to guide me to the next available corner.

"Herveaux did not bring you straight back." He observes.

"I spent the day in a cave, covered in blood, some extra maintenance work was required."

"You were avoiding me."

My mouth opens and closes but the denial won't come out.

And suddenly I'm back in our bubble. Because as strange as it may sound that's the most personal thing he's _ever_ said to me. Sure he's admired my cleavage and urged me to _yield_ to him, back in the day when Bill was out of earshot, but not even when he was practically accusing me of being out to get him has anything he's said alluded to there being any kind of connection between us. _He_ just accused _me_ of avoiding him, of not wanting to be with him.

My words and intentions have deserted me, along with my higher brain functions apparently, as I stare up into his face.

I know precisely how many seconds have passed and how stupid I must look when his voice startles me out of my Eric induced stupor.

"You wanted to tell me something?"

"Yes, sorry, the Queen is dead Eric. I heard it in Andre's mind."

"We suspected as much." He sighs. "A vampire knows when their connection to their Maker is severed."

His fast moving emotions solidify for a moment and I can feel the deep sense of loss he has over Godric's death and it's all I can do not to hug him. Like _that_ would be welcome.

"What will you do?" I ask without thinking.

"I do not want to be King." He answers, surprising both of us.

"I can feel that Eric." I keep my voice light as if he hasn't just shocked me to the core a second time. "But I don't understand why. These people trust you. They're looking to you to protect them because they know you can, that you _will_."

His eyes bore into mine and I can feel his irritation but he hasn't crushed my skull yet so I push on.

"Take Charles, I'm starting to recognise his mental signature . . . ."

"Your gift is growing?"

". . . . he worships you Eric." I continue, ignoring his attempt to deflect me. "He trusts you implicitly and he _wants_ to serve you, you can trust him."

More eye boring.

Jesus he's going to kill me for this.

"I know you don't like me but I trust you too. I can't see how you'd be anything but a good King. Maybe you should just trust yourself?"

He's been leaning down to be nearer my level so we can talk quietly, but now he draws himself up to his full height, leaving me face to beloved chest. Our bond is in chaos and for a brief moment I wonder if he _is_ actually going to kill me. There's personal and there's personal, and Eric is not only a male but a vampire of the species no less. If I'd said something like that to Jason he'd have considered it an affront to his masculinity or something, Chinese rope burns would have been involved . . . . God even my mind rambles when I'm terrified . . . .

"Eric." A stiff voice interrupts. "We must conclude our discussion."

"Charles." Eric growls. "I am still consulting with my asset."

"She can read vampire minds." Charles observes quietly.

My heart stops and Eric whirls so that I can only see the back of his shirt and his arms stretched back on either side as he presses me back into the corner.

"How do you know that?" Eric hisses.

"I have a gift I hide too, my hearing is extremely acute, no one else will have overheard you. The human is correct Eric, you can trust me with your secrets as I have just trusted you with mine. If you truly do not wish to be King I will support you, but Eric know that I am not the only one here who believes you are the best vampire for the job."

Hello tense, loaded, silence.

Slowly Eric draws me out from the corner and tucks me into his side, arm tightly clasping my waist.

Charles must know Eric pretty well because he senses his resistance finally crumble at the same moment I do.

"Your Majesty." Charles's voice is low and sure, like his thoughts. "I pledge my eternal fealty to you and yours."

With a rustle of fabric and sinew the entire room follows Charles to his knees, even Alcide.

"Fuck." Eric growls.

Going on instinct I sink to my own knees, fighting Eric's tight hold until his hand ends up gripping my shoulder painfully, pulling me into his leg as he scowls down at me.

"Your Majesty." I murmur, joining the chorus.

**EPOV**

I have spoken to Stan. He did not appear bothered by the change of plan, merely pleased, as he said he would be, that Madden will be nowhere near his borders. We agreed that he would proceed to take Arkansas. I will probably quietly, and benignly, hate him for the rest of his existence for being so slow to enact his takeover.

I have informed Cataliades, the Ancient Pythoness's office and the AVL of my ascension to the throne of Louisiana, they will tell everyone else. I have not yet summoned the courage to tell Pam, she will be _amused_ at my expense.

I have confirmed everyone's positions with the exception of Sheriff of Area Five and my Second.

I sent the non-human to bed. She was exhausted.

I am ready to join her.

I want to fuck her insensible. Or me insensible. Or preferably both of us.

Then I think I might kill her.

How dare she lift my private concerns from my head and address them as if they are something we have discussed? As if I would ever discuss such a thing with her.

The fact that she was right does nothing to mollify me, damn her. I have always told myself that a crown would cramp my freedom and make those I care about targets but I have also always known that it would be little different from my being a Sheriff, that I could probably make it work, if I had to. Godric used to joke that crown dodging was my equivalent to playing golf, but the truth is I have high ideals to live up to and I was, am not, ever sure that I will manage it.

She was right about Charles too. I have known most of what she revealed for a long time. Our secrets _are_ safe with him. Though I am still trying to work out what he has learned over the years from the gift he has concealed . . . .

I should question her, how might her secrets have led to me being trapped this night? Was this part of her plan? To set me on a throne as a target? It seems pointless when she could already have personally seen to my true death on more than one occasion. Does it benefit someone else for me to be King? Her? She seemed fully committed to the concept . . . .

I have made my final notification, read my final report and instructed my final spy. I want to see her . . . .

"Your Majesty." Charles appears at the door as I rise from the desk.

"What is it Charles?"

"Mr Cataliades's human is here. He wishes to speak with you on a matter of some urgency."

I sink back down into the chair.

"Send him in Charles."

Here he comes, the curiously cocky human, sauntering through my new office like he owns the place.

**NPOV**

I am _really_ going to enjoy this.

"Your Majesty." I intone as I reach his ludicrously large desk. I incline my head just enough to make it obvious that I am not being entirely respectful. Ortel does it to me all the time, it drives me mad and judging by the Viking's sneer it is going to have the same effect on him.

Welcome to my world.

"Sit down and make it brief." He snaps, indicating an ornate chair facing him. "I have pressing matters to attend to."

You will not be _pressing_ anything against my Great Granddaughter just yet young man.

"Of course." I observe in a tone bordering on disdain. "And congratulations."

He snorts.

Did not see this one coming did you Viking? No mind, if it is any consolation I got my crown in almost exactly the same way, women are a force to be reckoned with. Especially the ones that belong to me.

I smirk.

"How may I help you?" He enquires politely, itching to leap the table and rip my head off.

"It is more a question of how I can help you."

His eyebrow rises. He is very good at that, give him a century or two under a crown and he will be able to make grown men weep when he does it, Iike I can.

"My Master has bid me inform you that the contract between the state of Louisiana and his client for the protection of Ms Stackhouse is no longer in force."

He blinks. He certainly was not expecting _that_ and he is not sure he likes it.

"The contract for _you_ to ensure the safety of Ms Stackhouse is no longer in force." I supply helpfully.

If my smirk gets any wider I am going to turn into a toad right before his eyes.

"So your client believes there is no longer any danger to Ms Stackhouse?" He asks in a perfectly reasonable voice.

"There will always be a danger to Ms Stackhouse."

"So has your client made alternative arrangements for her safety?" Slightly less reasonable now.

I do not think he likes the idea of another being responsible for her, involved in her life.

"I have not been informed of anything." I manage to sound monumentally bored by this whole conversation, I have had practice.

"Are you telling me that your client is no longer interested in protecting her?" Ah. No longer reasonable.

"I have not been informed." I repeat. "She is the twice bonded of a powerful vampire King, perhaps that will be enough?"

He is silent for a long time, unembarrassed at taking time to consider his next words.

"I do not believe that _will _be enough." He says finally, fixing me with his ice blue stare.

"It is no longer your problem." I shrug as insolently as I can manage, which is quite.

He is incandescent with fury, barely able to remain still, let alone seated. His fangs are itching to escape his gums but he has enough self-control to prevent it.

"So now I am forbidden to have anything to do with my own bonded asset?" His voice is dangerously quiet.

"No, no, Majesty. You misunderstand me. You may do what you like with her, if any harm befalls her you will no longer be held accountable for it."

Well, you will be, by me, and it is not an accounting you would wish to be present for.

"So I can simply walk away from her?"

"If you wish it." I confirm easily. If you can.

"The contract is completely annulled?"

"Yes. The details are all here in these documents. You no longer have any contractual responsibility to _care_ for Ms Stackhouse."

I rise to my feet, placing the document wallet on the desk between us.

"You may look through them at your leisure, please let my Master's office know if you have any questions."

"What about disclosing the existence of the contract?" He asks, eyeing the wallet as if it might explode in his face. As if. I outgrew that phase long before he was a twinkle in his father's eye.

"You may tell Ms Stackhouse if it is your desire. It is all laid out in the documents."

There is another long silence.

"What is she?" He asks finally.

Can you not see, Viking?

"I cannot tell you that but I hardly think it matters. She is what she appears to be. A beautiful, intelligent woman with a strong and loyal heart."

"You seem to know her extremely well." He observes tightly.

"Not as well as you do." I respond, with a genuine smile that completely throws him.

My work here is done and I saunter out. Humming quietly . . . .

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.

If you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 38 Sundae**

**SPOV**

A quick glance at the ormolu clock on the mantle confirms my suspicion that it's lunchtime a spit second before my stomach does.

The light tight shutters are up and someone has left me a tray of breakfast things.

This room is like something out of the Palace of Versailles. Overly ornate and gilded to within an inch of its life. It's gorgeous, fit for a fairy tale princess, but I don't think I could live with something like it on a permanent basis, I'd be lowering the tone with my unworthy presence.

But for now I'm going to sip my coffee and drink it in.

I feel, out of sorts. I realise that's hardly surprising considering what happened last night and my brush with an unpleasant end the night before but even after two cups of coffee I can't shake it, or ignore the reason. I expected Eric to come last night and he didn't. We'd agreed, even in the rumpus that was his acceptance of the crown that there were important things I needed to tell him. I was ready, those words were burning to get out, and although I wasn't looking forward to it I wanted us to get it out in the open and get past whatever the aftermath would be.

I feel a bit silly to be honest, after all he's just been crowned King, of course he'd be really busy, the whole idea was to protect the state and though I don't know much about it, I'm sure it can't be as simple as signing a few forms and willing everyone to know what he expects them to do.

Still. I'm disappointed.

There, I thought it, I am disappointed that Eric was too busy to come and see me. And not just because I'm ready to give him all my secrets. This is also not something I know much about but I think I've developed a thumping great crush on him, the kind that any fangbanger could be proud of.

So there you have it, a large dose of disappointment dripping with a top layer of embarrassment at my own ridiculousness. Sookie's Out of Sorts Sundae.

Wallowing isn't my style so instead I indulge my new professional habit of flitting through the minds around me, trying to get a handle on everyone and an insight into any problems. Rhodes was a harsh lesson on the consequences of not paying attention. There are about ten weres here, excluding Alcide and his pack mates, daytime security. The household staff also numbers ten, with another eight that seem to be office and secretarial based day staff. I can count about thirty voids resting in and around the Palace but even though I can access them now there's nothing to see, they're devoid of all consciousness. I only know that Eric is one of them because his light is resting quietly inside me and I can sense that he isn't far away. There's something else out there too, two of them, they feel familiar in a way but I can't get a lock on them and eventually I decide they must just be on the edge of my ever expanding range. Various other minds are coming and going on normal seeming day to day business, deliveries, sales pitches, maintenance . . . .

Nothing seems to be amiss. The thoughts of the people that belong here are all pretty much what I'd expect. Relief, curiosity, anticipation, a desire to prove themselves useful to the new regime.

I'm not sure how to feel about the pets, there are four of them, all young women, Eric's got himself his very own harem. Which is nice. Their thoughts are pleasant enough, if a little too vapid for my tastes. One of them is planning on leaving if she is allowed, she was genuinely fond of the Queen, the other three are plotting amongst themselves about the best way to curry favour with Eric. Which infuriates me, if it were up to me they'd all be packing their suitcases and departing the premises before sundown.

Great. Now I have nuggets of jealousy to sprinkle on my Sundae.

Anyway, it's none of my business. Time to get up.

Dressed I poke my head out of the room to find Alcide sprawled on an overly brocaded love seat across the corridor.

"This place in unreal." He observes, glancing up and down the heavily carpeted hallway. "It's like Midas went mental with an extremely gay interior decorator."

He leans forward conspiratorially. "There's a room down there with a gold toilet in it, I swear to God. Apparently no one's allowed to use it 'cos the gold is so pure its soft and they might leave butt marks in the seat or something."

Thank god for Alcide, laughing makes me feel better already.

…..

We ate lunch and afterwards said goodbye to Nathan and the others, who needed to get back to Shreveport, then we went exploring.

The mansion is surrounded by manicured gardens and renovated outbuildings, accommodation for the humans and weres who live here. The pets are in a converted horse barn, someone has a sense of irony. It's all very beautiful if a bit manufactured and formal, I can't see how a body could ever feel relaxed here, you'd be constantly afraid of breaking something or inadvertently making it look ugly. I wonder if Eric will have to live here now, it doesn't seem very him.

The day staff are all polite and forbiddingly efficient. I have already been grilled by Smith, the Butler, on my food and beverage preferences so that he can ensure I am appropriately looked after whenever I am here. He also informed me that since I arrived sans wardrobe someone had arranged for the local shops to bring me a selection to choose from that evening, they would 'attend' me in my room.

Alcide got a very different grilling from the head of Palace security, a were bear named Vladimir.

Eventually we found ourselves out on the terrace soaking up the last of the afternoon sun.

"There's something you're not telling me." I observe finally tired of the effort of ignoring what he's been trying fairly successfully not to think about.

"Yeah." He sighs. "Northman's let me go, I'm heading home tomorrow, I won't be guarding you anymore."

I kind of suspected it but my body goes cold and freezes up anyway.

"Hey." He says softly, noticing my reaction. "You're safe here, much safer than you ever would be with just me to look out for you. And we're friends now, right, doesn't mean we won't ever see each other again."

"Of course we are." Crazy Sookie finally kicks in to save me. "And we will, as soon as I get home."

I'm not sure what ingredient this is adding to my Sundae, but it isn't a good one, I'll miss Alcide, he's been the only constant in my life for a while now. Other than Eric I suppose . . . .

…..

Having picked out a week or so of clothes as instructed by Smith, I spend a good deal more time getting ready than I would normally. I want smart professional Sookie with a touch of sexiness, I don't want to pale into insignificance beside the harem and I'm not even going to think about why, I'm just going with it.

I can't shake the foreboding that tonight is going to turn into the Sundae of Doom.

I've been so fixated on actually telling Eric my secret that I'm only now starting to think about what the aftermath might actually be. If I don't need Alcide anymore is that because I'm staying here in New Orleans, does that make me a virtual prisoner? Despite Eric blatantly kidnapping me I haven't felt like one yet, but I will if he insists I have to stay here for my own safety. He said he was keeping me close until he learned my secrets and tonight he will, might he send me home then, maybe sic Alcide on me again? What if his reaction is worse? I don't want to be a prisoner, I don't want to be sent away and I don't want to find out what worse looks like.

He woke up a while back but he hasn't been to see me and I can't pin down his mood, it's all over the place. Like mine.

Ah hell, the only way out of this is forwards, and it's not like I'm not desperate to see him anyway . . . .

Downstairs everyone of note is in the library again, this time there is a definite air of a King holding court, with plenty of people coming and going to pay their respects. Vampires, businessmen, politicians and the like.

Charles approaches me immediately.

"Ms Stackhouse. His Majesty has asked that you read the gathering and let me know, discreetly, if you hear anything he should be aware of."

I nod and turn to look for Alcide, for some reason I can't bring myself to seek out Eric in the throng, even though just a few minutes ago it was the only thing that got me out of my room.

Alcide has bagged us a couch in one of the less crowded corners and I hurry over to join him.

He hands me a gin and tonic as I sit down.

"Thanks." I murmur, taking a giant slug, tonight I'm finishing this gin and any other little friends that would like to join it. I'll take my Sundae with a drizzle of gin.

"What are we doing?" He asks.

"Working." I shrug. "Can you do me a favour and find me a pad and a pen, I forget things if I don't write them down as I go along."

"Sure." He unfolds himself to his full height and lopes off.

Settling back into the couch and sipping my drink I get down to work.

Alcide returns with something for me to write on and I jot down pretty much everything as the night goes on, no matter how inane, because it keeps me busy and keeps my eyes off Eric.

The three harem hoochies have all crashed and burned, so have the dozen or so lady vampires who've thrown themselves at him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. His mood is still all over the place but you wouldn't know it by looking at him, in the minds of everyone who is, he just looks composed and in control, like a good King should. He's attentive to everyone he speaks to, even though I know from experience that he's probably just as aware of what's going on in the room around him, the speakers always believe they have his undivided attention. Also from experience, reading his eyes, there are a couple of people he's spoken to he would clearly rather have killed with his bare hands.

I wish I had his undivided attention.

In fact as the night wears on I'd be grateful for any bit of attention at all. I'd discreetly sniff my armpits except that a) it would be extremely common and b) I've showered and am as fresh as a daisy. If Alcide weren't beside me and occasionally murmuring things in my ear I'd be downright lonely right now. Because we're bonded he couldn't be ignoring me any more pointedly if he cut me dead in a tight corridor. This knowledge is sprinkling my Sundae with hurt and making me hate myself a little.

Eventually I summon Charles, who is at least looking over at me from time to time to see if I've anything to tell him.

"Ms Stackhouse?" He enquires, perching on the arm of the couch.

"The man from Carnival Entertainments is a spy for the King of Nevada. One of the female vampires is too but I'm not very good with working out whose thoughts are whose if I don't know the vampires. They don't seem to be plotting anything themselves but they're being well paid for any little bit of information they can provide. They've been told to find out more about me too, I suppose we might work at which vampire it is that way."

Charles nods, his eyes alight with approval.

"I can see why the King values your loyalty and intelligence so highly." He murmurs. "There are two possible female vampire who may be in league with Nevada, Gayle and Serena. Let me take you around the room and introduce you to a few people including them, you might pick something up."

I nod and we both stand so we can work the room and now I can feel Eric's eyes on me, though I've no idea what to make of his annoyance.

Charles is a witty and urbane vampire and he introduces me to everyone with the respect he would show another vampire, which he maintains regardless of how rude the vampires and some of the humans are in return. The King's Pet has to be acknowledged but not much else apparently. Eric is getting more and more annoyed and some of it is starting to leak into me.

Eventually Charles introduces me to Gayle. Unremarkable to look at. Can't see what Eric sees in me though she does think I smell nice, she'd break her neck to be under him if he fell but other than that nothing of note. Of course, new jealous Sookie, would like to stake her.

"Not her." I whisper as we walk away.

"She is a complete trollop." He whispers back. "I have always avoided her like the plague, which she probably has."

I manage to stop sniggering in time to be introduced to the next group.

The usual. I smell nice and they know they have no chance of bending me over a table while they sink their fangs into my long graceful neck. Vampires are apparently extremely predictable, the table thing must be their equivalent of the missionary position.

Finally I meet Serena. Bingo. She's pleased Charles has brought me over so she can find out as much about me as possible for Felipe, who I'm guessing is the King of Nevada. We chat for a few minutes with me evading most of her questions and then Charles excuses us by saying that he needs to return me to Eric.

"I am assuming that is her." He murmurs.

"Yes, Felipe?"

"That's Nevada." He confirms. "I will tell His Majesty later."

"Okay. Thanks."

"It is my pleasure Ms Stackhouse." He says graciously, depositing me at Eric's side and moving away.

Awkward. I can feel his body stiffen even though a few inches separate us and now there is no denying that he is ignoring me. Fortunately Smith arrives at my side with a gin, I've lost count of how many I've had by this point, and I lavish attention on it like a long lost friend, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment and anger. The _giant_ red cherry on the top of my Sundae. I still need to talk to him so now I'm here I'm going to channel my inner limpet, unless he's jerk enough to send me away I'm staying right beside him until he lets me tell him what I need to tell him.

It turns out to be a test of endurance and Stackhouse stubbornness, but since he doesn't require a comfort break it's inevitable that we'd end up temporarily alone in the crowded room at some point.

"Eric we need to talk." I hiss.

"Not now. I am busy." He hisses back, looking at me for the first time.

Alright Mr Frosty. My gin and I have got your number. I look around us and raise my eyebrow pointedly.

"You do not demand my attention." He growls coldly. "You are _my_ human."

My higher brain functions wish me luck and vacate the premises. I've heard the expression 'incandescent with fury' but I never thought I'd actually feel it, for the record it rushes up from the tips of my toes and right out of my startled mouth.

"I am not your _anything_ Eric Northman, human or otherwise! And we both know it's otherwise! Do you want to know what's been going on under your stupid nose all this time or not?!"


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 39 Choke**

With a cursory word to Charles he drags me out of the library like a toddler with a dirty nappy.

All the way up to my room, so he knows where it is then.

The door slams back into the wall as he flings me inside, rebounding to shut behind him like he's ordered it.

I manage to regain my footing at the last moment, like the plucky heroine in a bodice ripper, heaving chest and all.

"Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?" He demands.

"No. You managed that all by yourself because you're a complete JERK!"

"I am the King!" He roars.

"Good for you." I spit out. "You're doing a great job, terrorising someone weaker than you are. What next, stealing candy from children?"

I'm up against the wall, held by the throat, his face in my face, fangs down.

The Eric light and my heartbeat are throbbing to the beat of the same drum, wild and intense, like his eyes. He's actually going to choke me if he doesn't put me down soon. It's not my apparently impending death that squeezes the tears from my eyes, it's the knowledge that despite what's happened in the last few days, the pattern I've been sensing, the closeness building between us which I know I didn't imagine, and Thalia's implication that he cares for me, he actually doesn't and he never will. He's a vampire and I'm just someone vaguely useful and sometimes alluring who exists further down the food chain.

I've been a fool, filled with false confidence in a person I barely know.

Abruptly he releases me and I sink down to the floor, rubbing my throat and closing my eyes so I don't have to look at him.

The throbbing wildness leaks slowly out of us into the room, filling the silence with tension, leaving me drained and weak.

If I didn't now totally distrust myself where he's concerned I'd swear he's fury is now directed inward at himself.

How do I feel about revealing my secrets now? Do I still trust him? Does it matter, Pam is sick and he's going to find out anyway.

"You should take my blood." His voice is soft and quiet. "There will be a bruise."

I shake my head and he lapses back into silence, I sigh, resigned to telling him everything and wondering where to start . . . .

"Do you remember the night Bill first brought me to Fangtasia?" I whisper.

"Vividly."

"I met my Great Grandfather for the first time later that night too. Turns out he's a fairy."

Silence.

"After Dallas it was him who explained to me about vampires being deadly to fairies and how Bill wasn't protecting me properly. That's why I didn't put up much of a fight when you wanted to exchange blood with me, I thought I'd be safe from the attentions of other vampires, if I was yours."

He lets out a short bark of a laugh, but he doesn't feel amused.

"He told me never to let a vampire find out that I'm part fairy. That's why I didn't tell you when I saw him in Newlin's mind. He took him and got him turned into a vampire, I don't know how and I don't know why. I haven't seen him since Rhodes."

Silence.

"The night of the takeover it was fairies who were attacking Madden's forces outside."

"How do you know that?" He asks.

"Thalia told me when she rang to report in last night. She and Pam were attacked by Madden's men too, they wanted Pam as insurance, to use against you if there were problems here. My Great Grandfather rescued them, but he had to give them blood because they were injured."

"Injured?" His concern for them sharpens his voice and makes me feel worthless by comparison.

"They are both fine. Pam has sliver poisoning but Thalia says she will heal quickly because she's had fairy blood."

"Why have neither of them told me this, I have spoken to both of them since that night."

"They wanted me to do it, so I could tell you the truth about me before you saw them, they both smell strongly of fairy and they would have had to tell you why."

I think that just about covers it but regardless I'm done anyway. I still haven't opened my eyes to look at him and I'm hoping I can get through whatever happens next without having to. I don't think I could bear it right now.

"Your Great Grandfather is right." He says after a long pause. "Never tell a vampire you are fairy."

"I'm only part fairy. And I just told you."

More silence.

"I am not sure what to do." He says eventually. "We are bonded and you are my asset, it is my duty to protect you and c . . . . see to your needs."

"But you don't want to." I sigh, not liking how forlorn I sound.

"The coronation is a week tomorrow and your presence will be expected, you may return to Bon Temps if you wish, as long as you promise to be here for the ceremony, we can discuss any outstanding matters between us then."

"Okay." I choke out through my suddenly constricted throat.

And, he's gone, the door closing softly behind him.

**NPOV**

I remain crouched in my hiding place on the balcony, tears in my eyes. I am so _proud_ of the way she handled him, even with no idea how powerful she truly is, she stood her ground like a Princess.

However if he ever makes her feel this way again I will scrape the skin from his body with a blunt silver knife and nail it to the wall over my bed, I do not care how much she loves him.

I must return to Faery for a while now the danger is past. I did not truly expect him to harm her but it would have beeen reckless to ignore the risk to someone so precious.

I do not know how long this next phase will take but if it drags on for too long she will need me.

Regardless, now that she has fully let go of her humanity her magic, which is already beginning to show, will grow and she will need guidance. Soon.

**SPOV**

I can't believe I slept but I did, not that it did me any good. This unrequited crush business is unexpectedly _painful _and surprisingly debilitating. I feel like an overcooked noodle, limp and useless.

And I have a sore throat, which I maintain is from the near choking, not the heaving sobs.

Alcide is dying to ask me what happened but fortunately is choosing to keep his questions to himself. Beside if I tell him I can't see the subsequent werewolf to vampire confrontation going in my friend's favour. Thankfully I woke up this morning with no marks on my neck, Eric's blood must still be doing its job even if he's not.

Vladimir has lent us a car, a little import that immediately made me want one for the other foot, like a skate. But despite its diminutive appearance Alcide's managed to get himself behind the wheel and it's so comfortable I'm able to drift in and out of consciousness. I hope I can stay awake better when I drive it back next week. If I go back next week. I'm a fool, not a masochist.

Alcide kindly stops off at the store when we get back so I can stock up on groceries. Then he drops me home, to collect his truck which he left here only a few short days ago.

I want to thank him for everything he's done for me and remind him that friends keep in touch but as we stand in front of his truck I can't find words to say anything.

"I'm sorry." He says eventually, enveloping me in a tight hug. He doesn't know what's wrong with me and he isn't prying, but he cares enough to offer me comfort anyway.

I pay him back by bursting into noisy tears that soak his t-shirt. _Jeez_, if anyone finds the Stackhouse that used to be in me would they please return it, I don't seem to be functioning properly without it.

Several minutes later, with many muttered and embarrassed apologies, I manage to peel myself off him so he can go home, dragging myself into the house and locking the door behind me as I watch his truck disappear down my shamefully pock marked driveway.

By dint of moving very slowly and deliberately not multitasking I manage to string out seeing to my personal needs and household chores until it's good and dark.

Then I curl up in the chair beside the phone and dial Fangtasia.

"Fangtasia, the bar with bite."

"Ginger?"

"Hey Sookie! How are you? When ya coming in to see us?"

"Hey Ginger, I'm good thanks, is Thalia or Pam there?"

"Sorry, no. Pam's off doing something for the Master I think and Thalia was in charge last night." Her voice drops to a whisper. "She can be real mean Sookie, real mean. Anyway, she should be in in about twenty minutes."

"Okay, thanks Ginger, can you ask her to call me?"

"Sure thing. See ya later."

"Yeah, bye."

Twenty minutes. I can amuse myself for twenty minutes without going insane. I can ignore the fact that Eric's awake and I don't know here he is, what he's doing or why he's feeling what he's feeling. And that it makes me worry about him . . . .

…..

The phone finally rings and I snatch it up.

"I called the Palace." Thalia says by way of greeting. "They told me you had come home."

"Yeah." God I sound flat.

"You told him." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yeah."

"He called me. He wanted to know why I kept your heritage a secret from him." A pause. "He was _unpleasant_."

"Oh _Thalia_, I'm so sorry."

"Do not be." She laughs. "I am more than twice his age, he is perfectly well aware that I can and will hand him his own buttocks if he pushes his luck with me."

I manage a wan smile at the mental image but no words.

"I asked him if he'd done anything stupid." She says softly. "He changed the subject and he did not tell me you were back in Bon Temps. I take it he _has_ done something stupid?"

"In fairness to Eric I lost my temper and pushed all his buttons first. There may have been some gin involved."

"Explain." She demands.

So I do.

"Forgive my disrespect Princess, but the two of you are _completely_ useless." She chuckles when I'm done. "You care for him?"

It's a simple enough question and unfortunately there's a simple enough answer.

"Yes."

"Well, I cannot pretend that you have not chosen a hard row to hoe but I am glad. He _is_ worth it."

"Thalia, he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Have a little faith, you have opened the book and are digesting the contents. You should know that he has asked me to make arrangements for your continued protection until you return for the coronation."

"Right, because he'd look real stupid if another vampire made off with me before then." I sound bitter and childish, even to my own ears.

"Princess require more reading. Call Thalia when head out of bottom."

"Thalia, please, I'm sorry, this is just freaking me out. I thought, I thought, I knew him, that we were becoming _friends_ but it turned out I was wrong."

"Sookie." She says softly. "You were not wrong. He is over a thousand years old and very set in his ways. Ways which have kept him alive for this long. You need to exhibit some applied knowledge."

"_Jesus_." I laugh, despite myself. "Is the ability to be cryptic part of the supernatural kindergarten curriculum?"

"Ask your Great Grandfather." She fires back. "He wrote the syllabus."

"Alright." I sigh in defeat. "My non-understanding part fairy ass is tired and going to bed."

"Sleep well Princess, I am sure you will feel better in the morning."

"Humph."

Click.

…..

Speaking to Thalia made me feel better, it really did, until I put myself to bed and woke up the next morning.

Empty and aching.

This crush stuff really sucks and the capacity for self-doubt and over analysis is mind numbing. Though not enough to stop you blubbering and then despising yourself for it.

I want something from Eric he isn't equipped to give me. And wouldn't even if he was.

I slept late, even though I couldn't possibly have needed it.

There was no Alcide drinking coffee in my kitchen, I had to make it myself.

Bill's empty house is like a hole in my gums, where a rotten tooth used to be, his now permanent absence proof positive that everything I think happened, happened.

Once again I string my chores out for as long as I can, the yard has risen to the occasion, it looks like it hasn't been touched for weeks. Which it hasn't. Gran and I only ever claimed dominion over a small part of it, leaving the rest to go wild, but even so I find a couple of hours of back breaking work waiting for me. I will reward myself with a spot of sunbathing when it's done, I feel abnormally pale.

…..

Tired and dirty I retired to the shower, wondering if I have enough money yet to upgrade from the paltry trickle I've been used to my entire life.

I sorted out my laundry.

I flirted with the idea of calling Sam to get myself put back on the roster at the bar but never did it.

I went to the store even though I didn't need to.

I contemplated visiting the library but decided I wasn't fond of _books_ at the moment.

I told myself repeatedly that I needed to get a grip because there was never anything except a business deal between Eric and me.

I made an appointment to get my hair done, I exfoliated like a demon and I painted my toe nails.

I made an elaborate meal and tossed it in the trash, opting for a tub of Ben & Jerry's on the couch instead.

Then it got dark and _he_ woke up.

So I got glammed up and climbed into my car, which was kind enough to start, and drove to Merlotte's. My home from home.

The parking lot was packed and I had to park under the trees at the back. They drip goop on the cars, you have to scrub like a demented person to get the marks off, which does nothing for the lustre of the paintwork but is probably good for sculpting the arms.

I switched off my engine but I didn't get out. I could see my erstwhile colleagues hurling themselves about to wait the packed tables as quickly as they were able. I couldn't see Sam or the bar, but the pool tables were crowded with our usual inebriated weekend clientele. I hadn't realised it was the weekend.

And I read every single one of their thoughts. Having apparently forgotten how much I relied on them to properly feel part of the lives going on around me. I'd missed a lot, but I couldn't bring myself to care, Hoyt's a man, he can ask for more cheese on his own fries, if he really wants it, no one needs a fairy for that.

I should have gone in and talked to them like a normal person, I've done it before when I wasn't working, when I was lonely, it's the reason I went tonight in the first place.

But in the end I didn't. I re-started my car, pausing at the main junction of the highway to Shreveport for an inordinate amount of time, before heading home again in absolute floods.

I couldn't be bothered to go to bed so I reprised my position on the couch and stared at the TV, convinced I was going to get up again at some point and turn it on.


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 40 The Hardest Part of Ending is Starting Again**

**EPOV**

That first night I had Charles find me a secure room and I stayed up, pouring over the documents the arrogant human brought me until the bleeds started, but they told me nothing he had not already. I should have gone to her as we had agreed. She was ready to tell me her secrets and perhaps they would have made sense of the situation. I wanted to go to her, but I convinced myself that it was not a good idea, there would be time later for that . . . .

When I woke obviously nothing had changed. I was still confused and full of unfocussed anger.

I had a problem.

It is not my way to avoid problems but this was one I had no idea how to deal with. So I made a mistake. I ignored it. I was under no illusion it would go away, I just wanted to time to process everything and deal with it sensibly, unemotionally . . . .

It turned out to be one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was proud of myself for being able to do it. Every molecule of her calls increasingly to every molecule of me.

I had help, the night was extremely busy and I was forced to do and say many of the things I had abhorred in other monarchs. It annoyed me. Her presence tugging at me like a lodestone annoyed me. Her beauty annoyed me. Her easy intimacy with Charles annoyed me. The way the vampire and humans disdained her annoyed me. If I had become any more annoyed someone else would have become dead.

Not a terribly good start for a new ruler.

And when Charles delivered her to my side like a primed parcel bomb I realised my mistake. The non-human does not like to be ignored. Trouble was coming but try as I might I could not define what it might be or how I could prevent it.

And then, like a landmine, I stepped right in it.

Truly I dragged her out of there as quickly as I could because I did not know whether I was going to rip her head or her clothes off. No one. No one. Speaks to me like that. Ever. Whether I deserve it or not.

Then, like a guided missile she homed right in on my fear, that I was not, and never would be, a worthy King.

I lost it.

Not completely, but more than enough. I hurt her. And I proved my unworthiness, proved _her_ right.

Everyone has regrets, even vampire and I suspect that I have yet to plumb the depths of this one.

Then, to further prove her superiority, she told me her truths anyway.

She did not even deign to look at me . . . . only Godric and my human father have ever been able to make me feel so . . . . _small_.

And I was desperate again, for a way out, for the space to think.

Did I believe she would choose to go, is that what I wanted?

Regardless, go she did.

And I felt it, awake in my room again, with only the bleeds for company.

…..

'_I am not your anything Eric Northman'_

…..

I awoke the next night, acutely aware of her in our bond, determined to take refuge in logic and deduction. So many unanswered questions . . . .

Fairies. Devious, vicious, killers.

After the last war, many hundreds of years ago, the gateways between our worlds were sealed by the Prince of the Sky Fae although we always suspected that many Fae elected to remain here. Vampire are fatally attracted to fairies, their blood is the only substance that can give us a high. Older vampire avoid them like the plague, the chances of catching one without meeting the true death are very slim, but younger vampire who disappear from time to time are often suspected of falling prey to their allure. And they _are_ beautiful fairies, incredibly so, the ultimate betrayal by Mother Nature.

I always knew she was dangerous but I had absolutely no idea just how much.

Is this a game to her? Does she like to play with her food?

Who is her Great Grandfather that he would murder the Rhodes bombers, I have no doubt now that he did, there was magic involved, and have Newlin made vampire? Attack Madden's men when he attempted to takeover Louisiana?

I am concerned about Madden, though not in a friendly way, he has not been seen since the takeover, not in Philadelphia nor Louisiana. The King of Nevada has already telephoned to request permission to search for his former Second in my state, I have told him I will consider it, but I will not allow it. De Castro has even less interest in Madden's wellbeing than I do, he is just looking for an excuse to flood my state with vampire loyal to him. The spies _she_ found have already been fed a little disinformation to keep him at bay.

Did Sookie's relative have anything to do with Madden's apparent disappearance? And if so, why?

I do not find it difficult to believe that a fairy would be involved in nefarious deeds and though I cannot see what the fairy would gain from what has happened I cannot rule out that he _has_.

But what I cannot fathom is why the fairy would rescue Thalia and my child. Give them blood? It is unheard of. What does he gain from that . . . . I have no clue.

I asked Pam for a full description of him but she must have been as high as a kite at the time because frankly the being she described sounded like every female under thirty's wet fantasy. Generic. Though the narcotic effect of his blood has now worn off she still remains uselessly dewy eyed over the whole experience. Apparently his _sword_ was _huge_ and he _tasted_ like manna from heaven.

Thalia on the other hand knows exactly who he is and took great delight in refusing to tell me. I should have pressed the issue and forced the information from her. Except. First and foremost, I respect her, trust her, care for her, and would never see her harmed. And second, if I am honest I am not entirely sure I could. She may be tiny but she is _much_ older than me. I had to settle for her promise to tell me if she ever felt she needed to.

…..

'_Who is he?'_

'_It makes no difference Eric, not to her, she has no idea.'_

…..

Charles, who I am now certain I will name my Second, tried to ease me into my second night as King with a little fine dining and entertainment.

I drank bottled blood, I was still replete with _her_, and I sent the nubile young women away untouched.

I do not know what I needed, but it was not _that_ . . . .

…..

"_She is an amazing woman Your Majesty, you have chosen well."_

…..

Now I have the information the Council of Monarchs convened in Rhodes requires I am unsure what to do with it.

The bombers were indeed members of Newlin's church and all involved have been punished by an unknown fairy.

I cannot report that.

It would place her at risk, since the Monarchs would require to know why a fairy was involved, and the only answer I have is that he was protecting _her_.

No one must know what she is. She would be neither tolerated nor safe.

The wretched fairy is practically advertising it, it is only a matter of time before his interference is noticed by others.

I _must_ protect her.

Arranging bodyguards in secret is easy. Britlingens. Telling anyone else that you are looking for a fairy is tantamount to asking to be chained in silver for your own safety.

…..

'_It is no longer your problem.'_

…..

The contract may be null and void but I _have_ bonded with her.

How much time does she have left, fifty or sixty years, barring ill health? The Fae are extremely long lived, I could be forced to feel her and provide for her for an eternity. As a monarch I will be doubly expected to protect my asset.

Although of course, without the contract, I could simply end her with no repercussions for myself.

…..

'_Eric, you have not done something stupid, have you?'_

…..

Louisiana has always been a well-run state, despite Sophie Anne's fluctuating attention to detail. She chose excellent Sheriffs, inspired loyalty, and was lucky that we picked up the slack.

The state's finances, however, are chaotic.

What she did with the money from the contract to protect Sookie beggars belief.

A gold toilet, in a room where no one need succumb to bodily functions?

A group of us managed to go through her assets and identify those which should be immediately and profitably sold, but even so I will be dipping into my own funds to clear her tax bill.

Interestingly one of the biggest drains on her resources was to Nevada.

For the first time in a while I felt the thrill of a challenge I could rise to. A mystery I could understand and solve without help I would not normally expect. Without _her_.

…..

'_Master. Your woman . . . .'_

…..

I cannot find my way to the truth or reality of this situation and I cannot help but wonder if it could be found if _she_ were here to help me.

It was one thing to want her body. Another to become accustomed to her physical proximity, her touch. To begin to trust her, despite myself, was uncomfortable. To be so affected by her _absence_ is not something I know how to understand or deal with.

I should be even more suspicious of her now, it is not like I do not have enough reasons. Yet I am not.

I should probably kill her and end all of this uncertainty and discomfort, now that I can. Yet I will not.

I do not think I have ever been so completely at a loss for what to do, been so enmeshed in a situation I felt so little in control of, had so little idea how to resolve.

I want something I cannot quite see or comprehend.

And I am afraid. Afraid to go forward, backward, or stay where I am.

…..

'_I am surprised you shared this with me.'_

'_Please don't make me regret it.'_

…..

Is it twisted that I am hoping the pain I can feel in her now is my fault? If another is the cause and I have done nothing to stop it I will feel . . . I will be . . . . guilty of not caring for her properly. She is my bonded, my asset, mine to protect.

If her pain _is_ my fault then it might mean . . . .

…..

'_I don't want you to die because of me.'_

…..

On the third night of my reign I demonstrated just how quickly affairs of state can be dealt with if sycophancy and misdirection are removed from the equation. It would have been quicker with _her_ help but I can be a highly motivated self-starter when required. And her Great Grandfather is not the only one who is able to wield a big sword.

Driving is cathartic, I do not know why, when it is such a new invention. Sophie Anne was faithful to her French roots but fortunately her taste in cars was unashamedly Latin.

Selecting a Ferrari I take off into the night.

With my elbow on the door sill and the wind in my hair I suddenly feel like I am able to think again . . . .

…..

Done with driving I park up and make my way through the night on foot, drawn by my hungers to the human dwelling I can see in the distance.

The porch steps are old and creaky as I ascend, the door slow to be opened.

"Do you remember the night Compton tried to trick me into taking you to the Queen?"

**A/N First and foremost. Thank you so much for all your reviews and encouragement. I've caught up with myself so I'm writing each chapter as I go along now and I can't tell you how motivating it is to know that readers are enjoying the story and waiting to see what happens next.**

**Second. Happy Holidays!**

**And third. Drinking and eating Chez Mortissues commences on Christmas Eve. If I can string a coherent sentence together after that I'll post again. If I can't, I'm sorry, but I usually dry out fairly early in the New Year . . . .**

**In the meantime your thoughts on poor Eric are welcome ;o)**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 41 Overture**

**SPOV**

"_Eric_?"

My heart is beating wildly, hammering the blood through my veins, but wherever it's sending it, it doesn't appear to be making it to my brain.

"Sookie." He responds smoothly, inclining his head slightly.

And that's where it all stops for several awkward moments.

"May I come in?" He asks eventually. "There is something I want to talk to you about."

I hesitate but it's too late to do anything about my red eyed, considerably less than attractive appearance, or the couch strewn with soggy discarded tissues.

Mortified I draw back and gesture him toward the kitchen, praying his sense of smell isn't that good, shuffling after him in my fluffy bunny feet slippers, too confused to even enjoy the view as he walks ahead of me.

Why is he here?

"Would you like a bottled blood?"

"Please."

I grab one from the refrigerator, twisting the top off and shoving it in the microwave on autopilot.

"Sit down." I offer.

He does so silently, not even jostling the chair.

I take the heated blood and sit down opposite him, warming my hands on it while I will my brain to get past the fact that he's here so it can do something useful, like pay attention.

He's wearing a dark suit with a pale blue shirt, both clinging to him like a second skin and I have to avert my eyes in self-defence, it isn't fair that he's so beautiful. Or that I'm so hopelessly attracted to him. It's like some chronically bad joke . . . .

"I owe you and explanation." He says suddenly, voice and words startling me.

"I was always suspicious of you. You are Vampire Bait. Beautiful, sensuous, your scent and your blood are clean and fresh, you radiate health and vitality and your gift is one that any vampire would wish to possess for their own."

All I can do is stare down at my hands around the bottle and listen since I don't seem to be able to process what he's saying.

"I did not believe that a woman such as you would have been placed in my path by accident. You are brave, loyal and strong. It seemed incredibly foolhardy for a lesser vampire like Compton to expose you to me, without having laid claim to you properly first. You seemed specifically designed to be attractive to me.

Do you remember the night we bonded?"

I nod, not daring to look up.

"It is true that Compton asked me to protect you, he was trying to trick me into handing you over to the Queen. And that is what I attempted to do."

He pauses for a moment to let that sink in, and I wish it would, but they're just words and if my brain is processing them it's not letting me in on any of its conclusions.

"While I was meeting with the Queen to arrange your handover . . . ."

The dispassionate way he says it makes me wince, glad he can't see my face properly.

" . . . . we were interrupted by a lawyer with a contract for the state of Louisiana, for the Queen and myself, to protect you with our lives or face the true death."

What?

"I have _known_ since that night that you were not who you claimed to be."

My head nods seriously of its own accord, a kind of understanding blooming behind the blank wall which is my conscious thoughts.

"The contract would have been drawn up when you were still a child but had not been enacted. One of the stipulations was that _I _was required to claim you as _my_ human."

I suck in a breath and rotate the bottle gently in my hands, listening to the rough glass bottom scrape on the table top, waiting for him to continue.

"The Queen and I were furious, it is an intolerable position for vampire to be placed in. And try as we might we could not find out who was responsible, though a contract of such import has to be countersigned by a vampire of two thousand years or over. This one was signed by Godric."

My head flies up and I find him looking back at me steadily.

"He never told me about the contract."

With superhuman effort I manage not to reach across the table for one of his hands, instead I drop my eyes to the bottle again and rotate it violently a couple of times.

"The night we returned to the Palace and I accepted the crown, after you had gone to bed, the Lawyer's human came to see me. The contract has been cancelled, I am no longer under any obligation to protect you, or to pretend that you are mine."

Silence.

My chest constricts and my brain bursts into life, bombarding me with questions, conclusions and fears. My fingers tighten on the bottle and I jump a little as it shatters, spilling thick, fake, blood all over the scrubbed wood. Eric stiffens and then relaxes when he realises I miraculously haven't cut myself.

"Why are you telling me this?" I choke out eventually.

"I wish you to _understand_."

I nod, swirling my finger through the spilt blood, idly drawing patterns in it.

Do I?

I think so. I can sympathise with the way this must have made him feel, the idea of being coerced into something like this gives _me_ the heebie jeebies, it must be a hundred times worse for someone like _him_. And Godric, I know he loved Eric, but did he actually think through how anything he did might affect him?

I understand why he distrusts me, spends so much time avoiding me, hates me.

I don't understand why he didn't tell me. It's not hard to guess who is behind this. Niall, what _is_ he, The Godfather?

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It was not permitted."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to have to do that, I would have tried to find a way to put a stop to it . . . ." I sigh, struggling for the right words. "Eric, I'm sorry, I know I was happy to let you claim me for my own reasons, but please believe I would never have been able to do something like that."

"I know." He says quietly and though I long to look up and see the expression on his face, I'm too chicken.

And I think I really need him to leave now. I can't think with him here. Not when all I want to do is curl up in his lap to cry myself out.

Is that irony? I'm not sure. The only person I want to comfort me is the one who is never going to do it.

My chest tightens again. This is it isn't it? I'm never going to see him again, I'm sure he can come up with a reason why I'm not at the coronation, he's a King now and I'm just his bonded asset, he can do anything he likes with me. Even get rid of me completely.

Jeez, my sense of self-preservation is so screwed up, I'm more afraid that he'll sell me than I am that he'll kill me.

Needing to do something I get up, clattering the chair back noisily so I can grab a cloth and clean up the mess. I manage to sweep the glass shards into my open and deposit them in the trash but I have to rinse out the soaked cloth immediately, twisting it under the water to wash away the thick red liquid.

"Shit." I hiss, as a sliver of glass pierces my finger.

Instinctively I raise the abused digit to my lips but Eric's large hands grip my shoulders, turning me to face him so he can take my hand gently, raising the bloody finger to his mouth.

Our eyes lock and my whole body suffuses with heat as his lips close around the tip of my finger so he can suck lightly on it. His tongue swirls around it, sealing the wound and eliciting a moan from me.

Embarrassed I close my eyes and pray for my heartbeat to slow, my knees to hold out

He releases my finger from his mouth with a pop but keeps hold of my hand, taking the cloth from the other and tossing it into the sink where it knocks something over with a clatter.

"Sookie . . . ." His voice is hoarse and a new terror gallops away with me.

My body and my head are _not_ on the same page where he is concerned. Jesus I've got it bad. He sucked my blood and he's holding my hand, it's not even remotely sexy. Against my better judgement I inhale shakily. Eau de Viking. Really not helping Stackhouse . . . .

I'm so aware of him that even with my eyes screwed tight shut I can feel him moving closer, leaning down . . . .

Desperate, I whimper, shaking my head furiously.

I can't do that, not even if this is going to be the last time I ever see him. I can't, but I wish I could, how I _wish_ I could . . . .

He exhales softly, his cool breath bathing my face and fluttering my hair.

Then he releases my hand and makes a noisy production of sitting back down in his chair. Nevertheless I keep my eyes shut until I've turned away over the sink, blinking back tears I rescue the wash cloth and right the scattered pile of crockery, filling the sink with water. I want him so much its almost making me feel sick, or maybe that's just all the other things gnawing away at my insides right now.

Why is he still here?

He told me what happened and I'm grateful, and I understand, I really do. But now it's done surely he's got something else he should be doing rather than torturing me?

The sink is full and procrastinated out I turn off the water and admit defeat, plopping wearily back into my chair.

"What happens now?" I ask quietly, fixing my eyes on the breast pocket of his suit.

"That is entirely up to you."

Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .

I know he's waiting for me to speak but I don't have words for what I want and I wouldn't share them with him if I did.

"Regardless of what has happened we _are_ bonded." He begins, breaking the long silence. "You _are_ my responsibility."

"Under false pretences." I point out.

"Granted." He chuckles briefly. "But this is what it is. You are _mine_."

He laced that word with far more possessiveness than Bill could ever manage and I bite back the urge to correct him, or tackle him to the floor, or possibly both.

"What I am trying to say." He says, our bond wafting me with determination. "Is that whatever you choose to do I would like you to allow me to continue to ensure that you are protected, _safe_."

"You don't have to do that . . . ." I respond automatically.

"I am perfectly well aware of that Sookie." He interrupts smoothly. "But I wish to."

"Oh."

Silence.

"I don't actually know what I want to do." I admit, thinking about Merlotte's.

"Godric taught me that the first part of making any decision was to decide if it needed to be made quickly."

Sensible advice, 'wait and see' was one of Gran's favourites.

"I would like you to return to New Orleans with me."

My mouth drops open and I close it hastily. Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .

"But I understand you may not wish to do so immediately, I was _unpleasant_."

Without thinking I nod.

He sighs and his muted emotions shift around rapidly before settling on determination again.

"It would please me if you were with me for my coronation."

"I understand."

"Do you?" He asks softly. "We work well together as a team Sookie, I am uncomfortable with losing that just because we were forced to become one."

Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .

His large hand slips a card out of it and slides it across the table toward me.

"The Palace numbers are all on here. If you need anything please call. If you decide to attend I can arrange for you to be collected and returned home . . . ."

"I have one of your cars here."

"Yes." He laughs. "Perhaps I could arrange for you to have one for the other foot?"

Despite myself I snigger. It _is_ like a skate . . . .

"I should go. I have things I need to do."

I nod again as he stands.

Then I remember my manners and scramble to my feet, leading him to the door.

We pause, on the edge between the light of the house and the dark of the night, too close together, him looking down, me looking up.

"Please Sookie." His eyes are intense, holding mine. "Come to my coronation. We can work out what happens next together."

_. . . . . I need you . . . . ._

I gasp in surprise and stumble back from the only vampire I don't hear anymore, his arm lashing out to stop me crashing into the door jamb, cradling me, supporting me.

Kiss me. _Please_. I've changed my mind . . . .

Instead, one armed, he sets me back on my feet leaving me in the light as he disappears into the darkness.


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 42 Slippery Slope**

**SPOV**

I closed and bolted the door, then put myself to bed, mentally exhausted and unable to process what just happened.

I dreamt strange dreams and must have had a fun night because I woke up in the morning locked in mortal combat with the sheets and practically hanging out of bed upside down.

Ugh.

Shoving my feet into my fluffy bunny slippers I trudge down to the kitchen, frowning at the blood stain on the table and deciding to ignore it until I've had coffee.

Beverage in hand I shuffle to the couch, pulling Gran's afghan off the back and tucking it around me like a blanket, its ugly and it smells funny, but it's a fixture in every memory I have of this room.

Alright Stackhouse. Don't get weepy and don't go reading things into what was said and done just because you've a thumping great crush on him and have recently developed the emotional maturity of a thirteen year old. _Think_.

So, now I know why Eric has trouble restraining his inner jerk when I'm around. Can I blame him? I don't think I have a real answer for that. Gran used to say that manners maketh the man but I seriously doubt she ever met a man like Eric, and besides, she also used to say that adultery was a wicked sin and she clearly didn't believe _that_. Regardless of what Eric thinks or feels about me he is basically a good person and I've seen the evidence of that, even in some of the things he's done for me. He's been a jerk at times but he could have been a whole lot worse, he's not human and he exists by a completely different set of rules to the ones I've grown up with.

He could have killed me with no comeback that night but he didn't. I thought I felt regret from him for hurting me and I dismissed it out of hand, but maybe he did regret it? And maybe I'm reading too much into this, different set of rules, I need to remember that.

Why did he come last night, explain himself, what does he want from me?

He wants me to return to New Orleans for the coronation and in all honesty I was going to anyway, if only to take the 'skate' back and see him one last time. Does he just want me to show up for that? He said we worked well as a team, does he want me to go back and work for him? Can I do that?

On a practical level, yes. The idea of giving up waitressing and using my disability in a professional capacity has been rattling around in my brain since Dallas and the more I develop my ability to use it the more I want to. It means spending my working life around vampires but I think in reality I passed that point of no return quite a while ago. And possibly I don't really have a lot of choice. I could move away and start fresh somewhere else, go back to school or whatever but I'd need money for that, and with my woeful lack of qualifications it would be back to waitressing. And the idea holds no appeal. I'm no more human than the vampires and increasingly I feel like I don't belong in their world, that I'd be pretending just so I'd fit in, and I've been doing that my whole life already, it's getting old. At least with vampires there's some merit seen in what I can do. Is that depressing? Should it make me miserable? I don't know.

On a personal level, is it really a good idea to go back and work for Eric? Now the whole secret thing is out in the open he'd probably treat me well, his employees both human and supernatural are all loyal to him for a reason, even Alcide who's a vampire hater by default. But can I do it, can I be around him all the time feeling the way I feel about him? Like a telepathic Miss Moneypenny. It would certainly qualify as masochistic, but crushes wear off don't they? Look at Tara, she had an epic crush on Jason for _years_ and she's over him now.

Yeah, but she was _miserable_ around him for years first.

But it isn't even going to be that simple with Eric. I know he wants me _physically_ sometimes, last night by the sink being a case in point, and he practically said as much, but there's no way I'm going to be an 'asset with benefits'. And therein lies the problem. I want him _all_ the time. Am I going to be able to resist him? Will I always want to? If he'd kissed me in the doorway last night I'm pretty sure some 'benefits' would have occurred. But while it would have meant something to me it wouldn't have to him. And can I deal with the rest of it? Eric's not a monk and even if I manage to avoid the actual event I'm still going to have to live with the aftermath, since it seems to be all they can think about afterwards. Just thinking about it has my stomach churning with a mixture of jealousy and misery.

And what about me? That would be it, wouldn't it? Regardless of what working arrangement Eric and I could come to it won't ever be possible for me to have a romantic entanglement, not as a twice bonded asset of a King.

Maybe, and its possibly a bit farfetched, if I went to work for Eric eventually I'd find another vampire like him, one who wouldn't treat me like livestock. They're not all bad, look at Eric, Pam and Thalia. If another vampire like that existed perhaps Eric would agree to sell me?

Stomach still churning I get up and refill my coffee, wandering around the house with it as I get to work, thinking back over last night in the way I absolutely told myself not to.

Did he pretty much say I was his ideal woman?

Did he say he still wanted to protect me even though he doesn't have to anymore, even if I decide I want nothing to do with him?

Did he say that he _knew_ I would never have agreed to that contract being placed on him?

Did he walk away from me and sit down after I cut my finger even though he must have known through the bond that what little will I had would have crumbled the second he kissed me?

What did he mean when he said that if I come to New Orleans we could work out what happens next together?

Why does he think he needs me?

My sensible side can see the reasoning behind all these things and knows that my inner thirteen year old is diligently looking for motivations that aren't there, but the teenage dreamer is powerful mojo and won't let the grown-up be miserable in peace, and though I know it's going to end badly I can't completely extinguish the tiny little flame of hope.

I'm embarrassed for myself, I really am, all I can say in my defence is that I never went through this whole crushing thing in school and I have no experience to fall back on.

The sensible thing would be to go back to the Palace in a couple of days, just in time for the coronation, talk to Eric afterwards and then make some kind of decision.

And it only looks like I'm staying longer than that because the car's so small my genuinely meagre pile of luggage is trying to escape through the windows. Besides, if I go now I might get the chance to shop for some killer heels to go with Dress Number Three, thank you whoever rescued it from the rubble in Rhodes, which I _absolutely_ intend to wear for Eric's coronation.

…..

"Ms Stackhouse, how lovely to have you back."

"Thank you Smith, I hope it isn't an inconvenience, it was kind of spur of the moment."

"Not at all, your room is always waiting for you. Someone will fetch your bags. Would you like to go to your room and freshen up or would you prefer to start in your office?"

"Office?"

Taking my question as a decision he leads me across the foyer and down the hallway leading to the library, opening the door of the room just after it.

"Can I bring you anything? Iced tea perhaps, or coffee?"

"Um, tea please, thanks."

Smiling he backs out, closing the door behind him.

An office? My office?

Unlike the room next door this one is small and more modestly furnished, more me. Even so one of the walls is lined with books and the huge leather chair looks like Gordon Gekko should be sitting in it. There's a laptop and a cordless phone on the desk, a painting of a meadow on one wall and a flat screen on the other. Hesitantly I lower myself into the chair which seems to mould round me like an expensively smelly leather hug, with castors.

It turns easily and I find myself watching through the floor to ceiling glass doors as a couple of gardeners tend to some un-Louisiana like shrubs.

Well, I'm here, what now?

Work.

At some point I'll need to meet all these people properly so I can put names and faces to their mental signatures but for now I can content myself with sifting through them, something I find much easier now when the vampires are dead for the day, their loud inner voices are distracting.

A lot of them I recognise from the last time I was here and I'm able to find out a lot about what's been happening in my absence. Charles has been named as Eric's second, a good choice as far as I can see and a new Sheriff has already been appointed in his place. There's a book running on whether or not Pam will get Area Five, short odds, and another one on whether or not Eric will retain the Palace as his base. The Hoochie Harem has departed, with generous compensation, something which I find childishly gratifying.

There are new people here too, none of whom seem to be a threat at first glance, but one of them is Quinn. His company has been hired to perform the coronation ceremony and while he seems genuine in most respects I don't trust him one bit where Eric is concerned. To my surprise I can delve into his mind far more easily than the last time I tried. It's currently mostly occupied with planning. There is to be a cocktail reception before the ceremony which human and vampire dignitaries alike have been invited to attend, sustenance for all types of guest will be provided. Only a select handful of humans and weres will be allowed to attend the actual coronation but the other guests will be kept entertained by a buffet and a string quartet until it's over, when everyone will get together again for the ball. Apparently some of these shindigs can go on for days and Quinn and his team are pleased that this will be a short and simple affair. He's not comfortable that Eric and his people are organising their own security at the Palace and I can see in his memories that he's had several run ins with Vladimir already. Vladimir is still smarting from Andre's betrayal and is determined to prove to Eric that he's worthy of being his head of security. The visiting vampires are being put up at several vampire hotels in the city, where Quinn _is_ responsible for security.

He's worried, after Rhodes if anything goes wrong here his company will be probably be finished, and as he's still massively in debt to the King of Nevada it will probably mean having to go back to the pits. From what I can see in his head I can understand why that's the last thing he wants.

This Nevada monarch seems to have his finger in a number of pies and I don't trust him either. Apparently Madden, his former Second, hasn't been seen since the failed takeover and he's promised to waive a significant portion of Quinn's debt if he is able to find out what happened to him while he's here. Quinn doesn't trust Nevada but with his mother and sister known to vampires he'll do anything he has to in order to keep them safe.

What _did_ happen to Madden? Is he hiding somewhere in the wings waiting to try again, at the coronation maybe? Is that what Eric meant when he thought about needing me? I suppose I am some sort of secret weapon now that I can read vampires.

I'm still giggling over the absurdity of _that_ when I feel him stir in the bond.

Immediately my heart starts hammering in my chest and my stomach ties itself in knots.

I shouldn't have come, at the very least I shouldn't be down here where I might bump into him, I should be indisposed in my room, or something similarly girlie . . . .

Taking advantage of the last rays of the sun I make a dash for it, weaving in and out of the crowd in the foyer, waving cheerily at Quinn as I blast past him on the stairs and slamming the door to my room behind me just in time for the light tight shutters to raise.

"Good evening."

"Eep!"

I flip the light on to find him sitting in the chair beside my bed, wearing jeans and nothing else, his hair still wet from the shower.

And as if that wasn't bad enough he smiles at me. Not a grin, a smirk, or a leer. An actual honest to goodness smile, that goes all the way to his eyes.

His smile makes him look boyish, nothing like the powerful, ancient, vampire monarch he really is.

"I am glad you are here." He says, surging to his feet and striding toward me.

Overwhelmed I back up until I hit the door and Eric is in my personal space.

Me looking up, him looking down.


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 43 Fuel**

**SPOV**

His hair falls forward, droplets of water landing on my upturned face.

My hands come up automatically but I don't know whether it's to stop him coming any closer or because the temptation to touch him is more than I can stand.

God he feels good, my thumbs brushing over the edge of his abs as my fingers splay against his sides. Skin so smooth, so soft, muscles fluttering. I can feel his ribs moving as he starts to breathe, and my heart thudding in my chest . . . . He smells, _wonderful_ . . . . My hands flex on him, wanting to _feel_ . . . .

His eyes close and he shudders, his unnecessary breath stuttering.

"Your hands are warm." His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him over the blood roaring in my ears.

Don't move, don't touch me, _please_, I don't want to have to take my hands away, not yet . . . .

Just looking at him, those long lashes resting on his cheeks, makes my heart twist painfully in my chest, forcing my own eyes closed.

My hands slide down his body slightly and his breathing hitches, his cool breath bathing my face, chilling the water droplets resting on it.

His hands are on my arms all of a sudden, ghosting up them until they come to rest lightly on my shoulders.

Now it's my turn to shudder, gooseflesh breaking out all over me.

This feeling . . . . whatever it is . . . . I can't find the words for it . . . . it's painful . . . . exhilarating . . . . terrifying . . . .

And being mirrored back to me perfectly through our bond?

"_Sookie_ . . . ."

Confusion . . . . uncertainty . . . .

I can hear it in his voice.

My hands, acting on instinct, tug him closer and though he doesn't resit me I feel his uncertainty spike.

Screwing up my courage I open my eyes.

And it's not a vampire, a monarch, or a jerk, staring back at me. It's just Eric. The man I thought I was getting to know and then convinced myself didn't exist.

His face slowly descends and my fingers tighten reflexively on his skin, I can't look and my eyes drift closed. His hands glide across my shoulders and up my neck until they're wrapped around my head, his fingers in my hair and his thumbs resting on my jaw, then his lips brush softly against mine and I'm lost . . . . passively resting against the door as his lips explore my face with leisurely enthusiasm, his nose rubbing lightly against mine between each pass of his lips . . . . I've never wanted anything as much as I want him to part my lips and really kiss me in this moment and there's an alien warmth building inside me, curling around his light, beginning to pulse in time with it, urging me to let go of my passivity and _make_ him kiss me . . . . I know I can . . . .

His cell rings.

Breaking the spell, bursting the bubble, bringing us both back to our senses. Saved by the bell . . . .

His lips rest briefly on my forehead and I feel him exhale before pulling away, my hands sliding regretfully from his body as mine sags against the door seeking much needed support.

"Northman."

"Your Majesty, your first meeting is due to start in five minutes and I have a report from Area 2 you will wish to read first."

"Thank you Charles, I will be down in a moment."

There's no avoiding it, I open my eyes and we stare at each other for a moment in mutual . . . . whatever it is we're in.

"I have to go."

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"I have a meeting with Nevada's representative scheduled for nine, I do not trust Nevada, will you be able to attend?"

I nod again, not sure if the voice is actually working anyway.

"Good." And he smiles again, inflicting a little bit more damage. "I will meet you in my office."

There's some embarrassing 'after you Claude' with the door I was formerly pressed against and then he's gone.

Well, that went well, I feel I stayed completely in control there, no ground was given. Excellent. Good. I'll just nip in the shower then . . . .

…..

An hour later I make my way downstairs, filled with trepidation and a load of other things I'm refusing to think about.

The vampires are all up and about and the Palace has a very different feel to it. During the day it belongs to the human's that take care of it and there is a quiet air of purposeful activity. At night the pace is more frenetic, the humans are all far more on edge and everything is just _sharper_ in some indefinable way.

I pause a couple of steps from the bottom of the staircase, scanning the crowd in the lobby, getting a mental feel for them all and organising my shields. It's more complicated now I can hear the vampires and I'm having to try and work out how to filter everything and control it.

I'm still hovering there wondering what to do when Charles comes to my rescue, bounding up the steps to stand next to me.

"Ms Stackhouse, it is lovely to have you back."

"Thanks." I murmur, embarrassed by his sincerity.

"His Majesty is in a meeting at the moment but he asked me to keep an eye out for you. Would you like some refreshment?"

"Yes please." My stomach rumbles in agreement, reminding me that I haven't eaten properly in a while.

"Come on." He chuckles. "I would offer my arm to escort you like a true gentleman but I am afraid His Majesty would amputate it later."

He's not entirely joking and I hesitate, consternation and confusion written on my face.

"It is perfectly natural." He assures me with a gallant smile. "His Majesty is what you humans would call an Alpha Male and if I had a woman as beautiful as you I would behave in exactly the same way."

Good grief . . . .

…

Chatting to Charles helps the time fly and it seems only moments later that he escorts me into Eric's library cum office, squeezing me past a group of vampires from Europe, who are just leaving. Their thoughts, at least the ones in English, give me pause but before I can analyse them Eric captures my attention.

Who do I have to pay to stop him leaving the top buttons of his shirts undone? Or wearing suits for that matter. Suits, no matter who is wearing them, have never done anything for me in the past, since in Bon Temps they're almost exclusively for 'hatch, match and dispatch' situations, but there's something about Eric in one that sends my hormones a little crazy.

Then, because for a moment it's only Charles and I in the room, he _smiles_ at me.

Seeking verification my eyes flick to Charles but he's studiously, and his mind loyally, inspecting the heavily brocaded curtains.

Bereft of rescue I let go and smile back at Eric.

Who then prowls the room like a caged lion while Charles briefs us both on the Nevada representative, a vampire by the name of Vasquez who is apparently so new to a position of power in Nevada's court that intelligence has revealed little about him.

"Bring him in Charles." Eric orders.

Moments later Charles ushers in a swarthy vampire, in a very sharp suit, who is exuding a confidence he doesn't feel. He is nervous that he's been given his first chance to prove his diplomatic skills on the _legend_ that is Eric Northman, and to say I'm fascinated in an understatement.

Eric takes his seat and offers one opposite his desk to Vasquez, who takes it with a cool nod. Jeez, these vampires are such fakes, if he was human he'd be sweating.

"Your Majesty." Charles murmurs. "Please call me if you need me."

Eric nods and he and I watch as Charles leaves the room. Vasquez would like to as well but he's sure turning in his seat would be a sign of weakness.

Eric gestures me into the other vacant chair opposite his desk.

"Your human is staying for the meeting?" Vasquez asks, raising an eyebrow as I settle myself into it.

Eric chuckles.

"I can assure you that your intelligence is correct, she cannot read your mind. However, if you were human she would certainly not need to be here, Jax's Brewery would be close enough."

Vasquez files that bit of information away for his King and looks me over once more, committing me to memory, idly wondering about bending me over one the nearby tables.

"It is _unusual_." He says eventually.

"I am a new King." Eric responds with an easy shrug of his broad shoulders. "Indulge me."

Vasquez is fully aware of Eric's history and scrolls through it briefly, to my absolute benefit, before wisely deciding not to question my presence any further.

"Firstly, His Majesty Felipe de Castro, King of Nevada, bids me extend you his congratulations on your ascension to the throne of Louisiana."

"Thank you." Eric replies politely.

"He is looking forward to attending your coronation in a few nights' time."

Eric inclines his head. No wonder he hates this stuff, get to the point already . . . .

"He has requested that I ascertain your willingness to discuss a number of matters during his visit."

Eric raises an eyebrow.

"And he asked me to repeat his request for your permission to bring personnel with him to conduct a search for his missing former Second, the King of Philadelphia."

"I appreciate his concern for an ally but as I have already told him, there is no need, Louisiana has already been thoroughly searched for _Madden_ and no trace of him has been found."

"His Majesty will be most disappointed to hear that." Vasquez murmurs. "He is of course caring for Philadelphia in the King's absence but I am sure you understand that cannot continue on an indefinite basis."

"I feel his pain." Eric observes with no sincerity whatsoever. "However I can assist him no further in locating his missing _friend_."

"Very well." Vasquez sighs. He didn't expect Eric to grant permission but he had to ask.

"I am glad we understand each other." Eric's voice is suddenly hard, his eyes narrowed. "Perhaps His Majesty, Felipe de Castro, King of Nevada, would like to recall the vampire he already has searching my state before I am forced to do something unpleasant to them?"

"I will relay your message." Vasquez responds quickly.

I manage not to laugh, he might not be showing any outward reaction but the Nevada vampire is definitely having a clean underwear moment . . . .

"Excellent. How else may I assist your King?" Eric leans back in his chair, flipping his expensively leather shod feet up onto the top of his desk and folding his hands over his abdomen.

"His Majesty would like to use the opportunity of his visit to discuss with you any strategic and business alliances that Nevada and Louisiana may be able to forge. He has worked very closely with the former Queen in the past."

"So I understand." Eric drawls. "I am open to such a discussion."

"His Majesty will be most pleased." Vasquez, bows his head slightly.

"Is there anything else?" Eric inquires, crossing his legs at the ankles. Purple socks?

Vasquez glances at me and I smile back, even though I know what's coming and my insides are in knots.

"His Majesty would like to enter into negotiations with you for the purchase of your asset, Ms Stackhouse."

Very slowly Eric withdraws his feet from the desk and sits up, leaning forward over it.

"Ms Stackhouse is an _extremely_ valuable asset." He observes without even looking at me. "A twice _bonded_ asset."

"His Majesty is well aware of that fact."

"Then he should be aware that I am _extremely_ disinclined to sell."

"He considered you would be Your Majesty, but he believes he may be able to convince you, given the opportunity."

Eric leans back in his chair again.

"Such an opportunity may be arranged." He concedes finally.

My stomach turns over and I swallow back bile.

"I will relay that to His Majesty." Vasquez is keen to be going now, on his feet already.

"Good night." Eric says coolly, watching as the Nevada vampire hustles out the door and someone closes it behind him.

"I cannot find out what de Castro is after unless I talk to him and refusing to do so would be like drawing a large target on your back. Under normal circumstances any vampire would be prepared to enter into such a negotiation even if they had no intention of selling."

"Okay." My voice comes out dry and scratchy as my eyes drop to inspect my lap.

"The contract forbade me from selling you." He continues and I find myself compelled to look at him. "But I meant what I said that night in Rhodes regardless. I will not sell you, not unless it is your desire for me to do so."

I should probably say something like thank you but once again my brain isn't sharing anything coherent with me.

"The night is still young, would you like to come to the French Quarter with me?"

"Shouldn't you be working or something?" I ask, surprised back into working order.

"It is work in a way." He says, looking slightly embarrassed. "Louisiana is a high profile monarchy, apparently it will enhance my image and that of all vampire for me to be _seen_ enjoying the city."

My eyes widen.

"If you laugh I will be displeased." He threatens without malice.

"I'm sorry Eric." Don't even smile, just don't. "I had no idea being a King came with such indignities."

"You do realise that I hold you partly responsible for this?" His eyebrow shoots up.

"Yes, _Your_ Majesty."

…..

Though my inner thirteen year old insisted on calling it a date there was nothing especially romantic about strolling through the city, arm in arm, surrounded by a phalanx of vampires, weres and photographers. Nevertheless, I had a _great_ time.

**A/N Happy New Year!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 44 Love Not Given Lightly**

**EPOV**

"Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Your Majesty." Smith announces.

I nod, folding my arms over my chest and arranging my features accordingly.

"Master." She intones, sinking to her knees the moment the door closes behind her.

"You are in a lot of trouble." I growl.

She nods.

"Stand."

She complies, keeping her eyes averted and I take the time to inspect her closely. To my relief I can see no lingering signs of silver poisoning in her, she looks fit and strong.

"I cannot protect you Pamela if you conceal things from me."

"I am sorry Eric." Her voice is sincere and devoid of the teasing that is her usual way in private between us.

"You lied to me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Thalia and I felt it was important to give Sookie the chance to explain to you what happened."

"Why?"

"You needed to hear the truth about her _from_ her."

"You know what is best for me now?" I demand.

"No Master. I apologise." She sounds contrite.

"Pam . . . ." I sigh, my ire wilting like a flower in the sun.

Wisely she keeps her eyes averted. It has been a long time since I have genuinely needed to chastise her and in truth we are well past that point, I have already taught her everything I can, if she deemed it right not to reveal the truth to me over the telephone then I cannot help but trust her judgement, even if I do not understand it.

"I will have to punish you."

"I understand." She sighs, raising her eyes to mine.

"You will take the position as Sheriff of Area Five."

She opens her mouth to protest.

"You will not argue with me. You will be diligent and do a good job."

Her mouth is still open.

"You are ready." I insist, smiling slightly. "You will make me proud."

Her eyes light up briefly in recognition of my words, then her jaw works for a moment, then she nods, an evil glint forming in her eye.

"How is Sookie?"

…..

With Pam successfully diverted to interfering with whatever the Tiger is planning for my wretched coronation I collapse behind Sophie Anne's stupidly large desk to get some work done. But it is impossible to concentrate.

Sookie _is_ well. I know this because I am more attuned to her than I have been to anyone else, Godric and my equally beloved child included. And because she is tantalisingly near.

I had no conscious agenda when I went to her but somehow it made sense to tell her about the contract, to explain myself, to have her _understand_. And despite her muted reactions and our muted bond I think she did, at least I choose to believe so.

She came back anyway, one of the few things I wanted from her that I understood well enough to ask for.

And now?

The gnawing ache I felt when she was absent is gone and this is good. She is happier too and this does not displease me either.

I know that she is fairy, a genuine mortal danger to me, but for the time being I cannot see a way to extract myself nor begin to conceive a desire to do so, and in its way this is exactly what I feared all along. That she was placed in my path to entice me, to lure me into giving up something important. And though I do not understand what that important thing is, instinctively I know that I am coming close . . . .

Eventually I stop my obsessing over the woman and actually manage to force myself to focus on keeping us all alive.

I did not lie last night, not one trace of Victor Madden has been found in Louisiana, not even a ghost trail from one of his aliases. This worries me since he must have been here during his doomed takeover attempt. Has he fled? It is possible but I cannot fathom why he would not have returned to Philadelphia and denied all knowledge of the takeover. If he has met his true death, then how and who, and is there any danger I can be held accountable for it? It could be tricky, after all I have no proof now Andre has met his end that Madden conspired to kill the Queen. Killing another monarch in battle or in a duel is acceptable, anything else, assuming you get caught, and most don't, is punishable by the true death. Could Madden's disappearance leave me vulnerable? In some ways it would be to my advantage to find him, since I absolutely know I had no hand in whatever happened to him.

Nevada's interest in my state and Sookie is bothersome. I believe he is probably testing me by sending his people into Louisiana without my permission, though I have had little to do with him previously, by reputation he appears too shrewd to have assumed that I would neither find out nor take action. The things I do not know worry me, conscious ignorance is just as deadly but more wearing than the unconscious kind. Why was the Queen passing him such huge sums of money? What, if anything, does he know about Madden? Or worse, does he know about the involvement of the Fae? Being seen as in league with them is very definitely something I could get into trouble for.

Thankfully any evidence of _their_ involvement seems to have disappeared just as surely as Madden. Nevertheless I need to have words with Sookie's relative as soon as it can be arranged after the coronation, because the Council of Monarchs will require a full report on Rhodes soon and I am still not sure what I am going to tell them.

Damn fairies.

_My_ fairy is still awake, concentrating.

Done with tonight's efforts at untangling Louisiana's finances I slip out of the French windows behind me and wander along to hers, surprised she is up _and_ apparently working so late.

She has moved her desk so that she can see both the gardens and her office door but she is so focussed on what she is doing she does not see me. I had wanted her to have a view but now I am concerned at the security risk posed by these windows, she is dangerously exposed at this moment.

I watch her, head bent over her laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard, lips pursed. Her glorious hair is scraped back and twisted onto the top of her head, secured by a pencil, and though I should dislike that I find the view of her long slender neck very appealing.

Her eyes flick briefly sideways to the pad beside her and then she re-focusses on the laptop, her fingers moving even faster. Far quicker than a human could ever manage, does she even realise? If someone other than me should see . . . .

What is she doing?

What am _I_ doing?

Taking the opportunity to watch her undisturbed and unobserved.

Such a beautiful woman, I have known many through the years but none has affected me like she does. I have never wanted anyone as much I want her and yet my epic lust for her body feels like the tip of the iceberg. A mere hint at what lies beneath.

So close to losing . . . .

As if sensing my sudden desire to retreat she looks up, capturing me, freezing me in place with her piercing blue eyes. Wide and deep they have always drawn me to her yet it is their very intensity that continues to try to convince me that there is far more to her than the naïve waitress she claims.

The cackle of electricity in the air between us, despite the glass, is an imagined manifestation of my awareness of her. All of her. Even out here in Sophie Anne's ludicrous and exotic gardens her scent is in my nose, clean, fresh, alluring, drawing me in.

I cannot _look_ away, let alone walk away.

She swallows and my eyes drop to her throat. What I would not give to caress it, kiss it, taste it with my tongue, sink my now aching fangs into it.

Compelled by some unknown force my eyes travel back to hers.

I wish I knew what she is thinking, in our bond it feels like she is paused, waiting . . . .

Does she fear me as I fear her?

Or is she simply waiting for me to yield?

"_Eric_?"

Even her voice is designed to entice me in. Fairy.

I open the door and slip inside her office.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I'm working." She answers with an embarrassed smile.

My eyebrow shoots up.

"I didn't know what you wanted me to do so I'm writing a report." She shrugs self-consciously. "It seems to be what everyone else does."

"A report?"

"On all the staff and visitors here, what I've heard from everyone."

Cold dread washes through me.

"Please tell me you are not including anything about the vampires?" My voice sounds harsh even to my own ears.

She flushes and I feel contrition from her as looks down at her keyboard. "I'm sorry Eric, I didn't think, do you not want me to read them, is that wrong?"

"Sookie." My chest constricts painfully. "I am only concerned that someone could access your laptop and realise what you can do. It could be dangerous for you."

"Oh."

In the silence her eyes find their way back to mine.

"I'm sorry Eric, I'm not very good . . . ." She gestures around the room and at both of us. "With all this . . . . I didn't think, I was just trying to be useful, I don't want to make things any harder on you."

My ire spikes and I am a hair's breadth from stalking out. Except. I no longer believe her to be the consummate actress pretending to support me, not really.

My hesitation with her will be my undoing.

"Shall I delete it all?"

"No. I can take it to my room, it will be secure there, I can destroy it after I have read it. You will have a new laptop in the morning."

"Okay." She sighs, reaching out to save her file and shut the laptop down.

She stands and prepares to leave, gathering her notes together.

"We should destroy these too."

I nod, taking them from her.

Sighing she turns to precede me from the room, taking the pencil from her hair so that it can cascade down her back.

Not needing to look where I am going I watch it swing as she walks ahead of me into the marble hallway. As she begins to ascend the stairs my eyes drop, like a horny adolescent, first to her shapely ankles, she is wearing one of her 'serious' business ensembles, before rising to take in the flex of her calves. By the time we reach the landing they have risen all the way to her bottom where her glutes are moving the tight grey skirt in delicious ways.

Feeling like a devoted dog following its master I surreptitiously reach up to rub my thumb over my gums, trying to coax my fangs into staying there as we walk along to her room.

She pauses at her door.

"Pam has arrived." I inform her, annoyed that I am seeking to prolong our contact with such apparently trivial information.

"I saw her." She nods. "She helped me move my desk."

I raise my eyebrow at such un-Pam like behaviour and Sookie giggles in understanding.

"She was pumping me for information about my Great Grandfather. He's made quite an impression on her."

"Humph."

My displeasure at the mention of her relative must be apparent because she blushes, her eyes leaving my face to study something on my shirt for a moment.

She sucks in a breath and shakes her head slightly before raising her eyes back to my face.

"I can't help what I am Eric."

She says it quietly but there is a challenge in her words and her gaze.

And it sends me into a tailspin. I have unconsciously been buying into the concept that she does not truly know what she is and yet her words and emotions in this moment tell me that she knows precisely _why_ what she is may be a problem for me.

Needing time and space to process the implications I do the only thing I can think of, I walk away, her tangled and unhappy emotions following me like a dark cloud. After a moment I hear her door open and close.

And I stop, held in place by something I do not understand and cannot fight.


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 45 Somewhere I Belong**

**SPOV**

Jerk!

I close the door to my room behind me, deliberately refusing myself the slam I desperately desire.

Wound up and with no outlet I immediately start stripping out of my clothes, flinging them around the room, skirt on the bed, blouse on the dressing table, bra onto the nightstand, panties kicked into the corner. I didn't even look to see where my shoes ended up but they landed somewhere with rapid thuds. Not yet spent I storm into the bathroom, scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth with unnecessary force.

In the mirror I see my shiny red face staring back at me.

He's making me crazy. Insane.

The night started off so well. I decided to write up everything I'd heard, earn my keep a bit, and let Eric know the seemingly unimportant things there never seemed to be time to tell him.

I was as pleased as punch to see Pam, I'd been so worried about her.

She helped me move my desk, all the while prattling on about Niall, it was a bit nauseating to be honest, he might look like he should be running around in his underwear in a cologne advertisement but he's still my Great Grandfather. I wondered briefly if she was converted but since she spent most of her time addressing my chest I guessed not. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed her. Not that I can think why, the woman is the very definition of snark. Eventually she got bored of my lack of insight into Niall and went off to lavish her acerbic wit on Quinn, his thoughts on her interference with his meticulous plans kept me chuckling for hours.

At her direction I called Thalia at Fangtasia. She was bored with terrorising the staff and clientele but even more bored by the idea of attending Eric's coronation where she wouldn't have been allowed to terrorise anyone, I tried to get her to change her mind about coming but she wasn't having any of it. She was however in the mood to share and while I didn't really expect fairies to be all about ethereal beauty, relentless do gooding and wings, I was more than a little shocked.

And she was right, damn her. No interaction with Eric is smooth but he sure went off the deep end as soon as I alluded to my heritage. She still maintained he wouldn't care but it sure doesn't feel like it from where I'm standing right now. Naked in this bathroom, with a look on my face I can't decipher, and his agitation threatening to break through in our bond.

Dispiritedly I peel away from the mirror to grab some clean PJs from the dresser in the bedroom, pulling them on and shoving my feet into my fluffy bunny slippers. Then I trail around picking up my discarded clothes, putting them in their rightful places.

I'm so confused.

I'd like to escape into the oblivion of sleep but I'm still so wound up I know it isn't going to happen. Instead I sink down onto the end of the bed and hang my head, inspecting the flamboyant carpet, trying to make sense of everything, _anything_ . . . .

A knock at the door startles me out of my funk.

"Who is it?"

A martyred sigh on the other side.

"Eric."

"What do you want, I'm ready for bed." I don't bother minding my words, he's well past the point of twisting them into something dirty for my mortification and his amusement.

"I would like to talk to you."

My inner thirteen year old is turning cartwheels. The grown-up is unable to see anything good coming from it.

I've reached the door now and I press my forehead against it. I've been dreading this talk and looking forward to it in equal measure.

And yet he probably just wants to point out the typos in my report, I'm not a great speller, it always seemed so unnecessary to get hung up about it when everyone knew what you meant anyway.

He's waiting, and none too patiently either.

I blow out a breath, not caring that he'll hear me.

Oh well, time to rip the band aid off I suppose . . . .

I pull back and open the door.

He's got my laptop and notes tucked under his arm, so I'm going with the typo . . . .

"Can I come in?" He asks, reminding me that I'm blocking his path.

"Sorry." I flush up like a tomato and retreat to the bed, sitting down cross legged in the center.

Eric closes the door, places the laptop and pad carefully on the tallboy near it and then just stands there looking at me, sucking all the air out of the room with the force of his presence.

"What do you know about the Fae?" He asks just as I'm about to break the tense silence with some random inanity.

"Not as much as I should." I admit.

"Do you know why Fairy and Vampire are enemies?"

"My Great Grandfather said we are considered very _tasty_."

"I would not know, Godric never allowed me that privilege." He smiles slightly. "You, however, are _delicious_."

That should _not_ sound like a compliment, nevertheless I can feel more red pouring into my cheeks.

"Fairy are very protective of their kin." He continues, watching me intently. "A drained fairy nearly always led to vicious reprisals."

An image of Niall and his bloody sword pops into my head.

"Wars even." He almost growls.

I nod.

"The Fae plate their swords with silver, cap their teeth with it, taint their blood with it. The Fae _hate_ vampire. The Fae have magic."

"Vampires, the older ones who remember, consider us to be deadly tricksters." I confirm.

"You know this?" He asks, eyes narrowing.

"Thalia told me, tonight."

He is silent, considering his next question.

"Eric, I knew nothing of this. I have no magic. I don't own a sword. My teeth have never even seen the inside of a dentist's office."

He closes his eyes and I want to leap up and smooth the 'v' from between them. Not that I'd dare . . . .

"It is very difficult for me to believe." He says when he eventually opens them.

I shrug, unconsciously spreading my hands out, palms up. Certain I have nothing else to hide, he knows everything about me now, more than I do probably.

"That's what Thalia told me."

He raises that damn eyebrow, weird that I'm starting to find even that attractive.

"She wanted me to understand why you would probably still not trust me completely, even after . . . . after everything that's happened."

"Sookie." He seems annoyed, running his hand through his hair. "Your relative should have explained all this to you . . . ."

"Well he didn't Eric." I snap, stung by the truth of his words. "And I'm sorry if I didn't know what questions to ask. Not that long ago I didn't even know vampires existed never mind any of the rest of it!"

"If that is the truth then you are an amazing woman." He sighs, sinking into the chair in the corner, resting his arms on his thighs and leaning down to conduct his own carpet inspection over his clasped hands.

"And if it isn't?" I ask quietly, ignoring my brain which would quite like me to shut up before I can say or do anything even more stupid.

He snorts bitterly but doesn't look up.

"You will still be an amazing woman."

"I'm a waitress Eric." I huff, furious that tears of self-pity are forming in my eyes. "I grew up with the disturbing and extremely painful ability to read minds, I'd seen people's darkest thoughts and desires before I saw my first McDonalds. My own mother was terrified of me. And the one person who ever really looked out for me and cared for me had an affair she never told anyone about with a fairy that's completely changed anything I thought I knew about my crappy world."

He's silent and completely immobile.

"I get why you distrust and dislike me Eric, I really do, but I can't do anything more about it than I've done already."

Big fat tears are sliding down my cheeks now, the kind you can't stop and that eerily don't come with heaving sobs and flowing snot.

And I finally realise that I've got so much more to deal with than Mr Frosty and his little world of vampires. I'm the cliché that's fallen in love with the unobtainable man. And it kills me that I know so little about who or what I am now that _that_ is my defining feature.

Just a stupid, naïve, little girl.

"Do not cry _please_."

Angrily I scrub the tears from face, ashamed of having a breakdown in front of Eric of all people, not that it does any good. The tears are all married, with big families, and everyone wants to join the party. I'm so lost and I've got no one to turn to, no one to help me, no idea what to do . . . .

"Sookie _please_." His head is still down. "I do not know how to deal with this . . . ."

"I need to belong somewhere Eric." I choke out, sobs starting. "I . . . . I . . . . I don't know . . . . where I belong . . . ."

I close my eyes and bury my head in my hands as the sobs take over, I'm going to hate myself in the morning but I can't seem to pull myself together . . . .

The Eric light is throbbing and burning inside me, writhing in some semblance of sympathy . . . .

"Eric, p-p-please, I n-need you to help me . . . ."

Strong arms lift me, laying me out on the bed, pulling my head into his chest and holding me against him with firm, sure, pressure.

The immediate sense of warmth and comfort has me crying even harder, my hands curling into his shirt in white knuckled fists as I instinctively try to get as close to him as I can. He starts to breathe, deep powerful breaths that immediately fall into synchronisation with his light, his exhaled air blowing lightly across my scalp as he folds himself around me, trapping my legs with his and tightening his hold.

"Eric." I sob, letting go completely . . . .

…..

I haven't seen him since he silently held me while I cried myself to sleep, when I woke up he was gone. Just a few days but I've missed him, though his quiet strength is always in our bond. Poor Eric, he's probably not had to deal with an overwrought woman in a thousand years, if ever, no wonder he's avoiding me. I feel pathetically grateful for his support when I needed it, and though I should be stung by his absence since, in some way I feel like he's still offering me that support.

Tonight is his coronation.

I am determined to enjoy it.

And afterwards we need to talk.

Because I can't do this anymore. I am not thirteen and I never will be again. If he wants me to stay I need to know under what conditions so that I can make a sensible, grown-up, decision. Even if I have to lay myself completely bare, or barer, if that's a word, than I did that night.

And then, whatever my life is, I need to Stackhouse up and get on with it. Crying like a baby didn't solve anything but I can't deny that it cleared my head and made me feel better. I don't really do self-pity but I guess I was due a moment.

I might not have seen Eric but I've seen plenty of Pam and Charles, I doubt there's a conspiracy but I've barely been alone a moment at night. I've slept or just laid in my bed for most of the daylight hours, hardly venturing out of my room until night descends. Huh, and I never thought I'd get used to vampire hours.

Pam has naturally claimed complete dominion over my preparations for tonight, filling my time with shoe shopping and decisions about hair and makeup. She made me try on Dress Number Three, threw a fit, then had a seamstress come to the Palace to take it in since apparently I've lost weight, all the while insisting that since she dug it out of the rubble of Rhodes with her bare hands I am duty bound to look good in it.

I just let her get on with it, it's not like I don't want to look good for Eric anyway, pathetic as I am.

Charles's presence was more soothing but just as welcome. He was solicitous about my well-being, making sure I ate meals I enjoyed, making me laugh with his scurrilous observations on the other Palace occupants and just generally making me feel part of everything.

Alcide arrived this afternoon, bringing Thalia with him in a travel coffin, I hope he hasn't abducted her, apparently the two of them are on Sookie Duty tonight. I was so pleased to see him I hugged him silly and then had to excuse myself to get another shower so I could scrub off his scent. Disturbed by the fact that I can actually _smell_ he's not human now.

So much I need to sort out, but it can wait, tonight I _will _go to the Ball.

"What the Caterpillar's Uncle is that?" I blurt out as a smirking Pam appears in the floor length mirror behind me.

"It is a corset Sookie." She responds archly, brandishing it like a severed head. "Specifically designed for uplifting the assets and bolstering the underpinning of same."

"I won't be able to sit down!" I object, eyeing the thing in alarm.

"Of course you will." She says dismissively. "You just won't be able to slouch."

"I do not slouch." The very idea, Gran would never allow it.

"Good." She chuckles. "Then you will not even notice you are wearing it."

Fine.

Wordlessly I hold out my hand, taking the thing into the bathroom so I can struggle into it in privacy.

I inspect myself in the mirror, it looks like I'm wearing lace adorned medieval body armour, there is neither uplifting nor bolstering going on.

"You will need to let me _arrange_ and tighten it for you." Her amused voice penetrates my temporary sanctuary.

Boob fixated Harpy.


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 46 Dress Number Three**

**SPOV**

Finally I was done.

Laced into my own personal torture device. I always wondered, what with my Gone with the Wind obsession, what they felt like and now I know. Vivien Leigh was _not_ acting when she got laced into hers.

However it has had a startling effect on Dress Number Three and its nervous occupant. If I were waiting tables at Merlotte's tonight I could balance beer pitchers on these puppies.

The dress is blood red silk velvet. The shoulder straps about an inch wide, slightly ruched, and angled to cling precariously to the outer slope of my shoulders. Its low cut and form fitting and with the corset the fabric over my midriff and hips hugs me but moves fluidly. The skirt is also fitted, stopping just above the knee at the front but then flows away into a train at the back that pools on the floor, like an exotic tail feather. Pam insisted on silk stockings and suspenders so my legs shimmer every time they move, which, like a child, I keep doing in front of the mirror so I can marvel at the effect again.

She decided I could forgo any kind of jewellery but still made me sit here for an hour while a professional did my make-up. Which I don't really understand. An hour to make it look like I'm not wearing any? Not that I'm complaining, what with Eric's blood and this enhancement I don't think I've looked this good in my entire life. My hair is a little less miraculous although the lady managed to get a lustre to it that I've never managed. Pam insisted on a simple style, it's twisted into a chignon, with artfully escaping wisps and a feathery trail down my back. I _so_ need to get it cut.

We both agreed on the shoes. What she called couture requirements and I know Tara would call 'fuck me' heels. Either way I will be forced to proceed in a regally subdued manner, otherwise I'm going to break an ankle.

Pam's gone to sort herself out, promising to see me downstairs later, I'm just waiting for Thalia and Alcide to escort me.

Thalia arrives first, wearing a simple black silk shift and what looks suspiciously like a pair of thirteen hole DMs, her long dark locks loose around her shoulders. She looks cute but I am not going to say so for obvious reasons, and not just because she has her sword strapped to her back.

"I am nuclear deterrent." She says, shrugging in response to my raised eyebrow." "Anyone will think twice about physically messing with you, or Eric, if Thalia is wearing sword."

Right, okay then. I guess a hug is out of the question?

Another knock at the door, which I answer, what is it with vampires and doors, even I can smell it's Alcide.

"Wow." He says with a smirk. "You look _great_."

I snigger and Thalia growls.

"And you too Thalia." Alcide adds quickly, jumping back as she sweeps out of the door.

"I guess we're ready to go." He says, rolling his eyes at me.

"Lets." I respond, closing the door behind me. "This time I'm actually going to make it as far as the Ball."

The foyer is a hive of activity as we descend the stairs and make our way to the Ballroom at the back of the Palace. Vladimir's weres are stationed everywhere, looking like Secret Service Agents, complete with ear pieces, but they aren't stopping anyone from roaming the ground floor. Human staff are scurrying everywhere, setting up the buffet for the humans, serving drinks and jumping to attention whenever Quinn or one of his staff ask for something. Its organised chaos which gradually thins out the closer we get to the Ballroom.

Unlike Rhodes the doors are spread wide open and without hesitating the three of us pass through, me somehow finding myself at the front as Thalia and Alcide slot in behind me.

I don't know if I am actually more observant than I used to be or just better able to function in situations like this. I'm not imaging that every eye in the place is on me. I know they are. I'm not assuming that there was a brief lull in conversation as those we didn't see me enter turned to find out what was happening. There was. I heard a few sets of fangs run down. I heard Thalia chuckle and Alcide groan. I read and filed the swirl of thoughts. And while all this was happening my eyes found Eric's as surely as if he'd been alone in the room.

He was staring straight at me, over the heads of the two vampires in front of him, his face expressionless.

And again I don't know if I'm more observant than I used to be, but for a brief flash of time, with all eyes turned away from him except mine, he smiled. All the way to his eyes.

Then everything pinged back into focus, his companions claimed his attention, Thalia chuckled and my Crazy Sookie Stackhouse smile morphed into a probably idiotic looking real one.

Really? A smile is all it takes?

Huh. Yeah. I guess so. This is Eric we're talking about. And that, coupled with the surge in our bond, was probably the equivalent of him crossing the room and telling me he was glad to see me. Okay, not quite, but he _is_ Eric.

Jeez. And I haven't even had a drink yet.

Thalia chuckles again and prods me gently in the back.

"Move Princess." She whispers. "We are stopping traffic."

Sedately, because I don't have a choice in these shoes, we make our way over to the bar in the left hand corner.

Alcide orders me a gin and tonic and Thalia and I turn our attention to the room.

Pam is talking animatedly, for a vampire, with the other Louisiana Sheriffs, though she does take the time to wink at me when our eyes meet. Charles nods at me from the midst of his own knot of vampires. The square Doctor from Rhodes is here, raising her glass to me briefly in recognition. She's not human, which surprises me despite her odd appearance, in fact, there are a considerable number of people here who look like they should be but aren't and I wish I knew how I know. A whole new range of minds, most of which I can probably read once I've had a chance to work them out. Should I? What if any of them are dangerous to my friends, to Eric?

"If you are going to work your magic we should find a seat." Alcide murmurs, handing me a drink, recognising my semi vacant expression.

I smile at him, part thanks and part relief.

"I even have a little pad in my pocket." He chuckles. "And a pencil. For just such eventualities."

"Thanks. Just for a minute, there's new stuff here."

Thankfully he doesn't ask for a definition of 'stuff'.

Thalia frightens a couple of humans away from a table in the far corner, set well back from the dance floor, and hovers while Alcide and I take a seat.

Wow. Slouching really isn't an option. Not if you want to breathe.

Now that I'm concentrating there are only three new kinds of minds here. All alien to me but one type that feels warm and familiar, tugging at my memory. I'll start with those I think. There are two of them, a little different from each other in their flavour, male and female? They're elusive to say the least, like chasing butterflies with a net, I used to love that when I was little, and like butterflies every time my mind gets near theirs they slip away as if buffeted by moving air. So absorbing . . . .

"Ms Stackhouse." A smooth voice with a hint of European accent, interrupts my 'hunt'. "How lovely to finally meet you. I have heard so many wonderful things about you."

Crap! What use is being able to read vampire minds if you're not paying attention and Nevada sneaks up and catches you unawares?

I glance at Alcide who is watching the newcomer carefully, and Thalia, who looks like she'd love to lop his head off but knows she can't. She even backs up a reluctant step so he can get closer.

Fortunately I catch myself before I let on that I know who he is and settle for a polite, southern, 'who the hell are you' smile.

"I am Nevada." He informs me with a charming smile o his own. "Felipe de Castro."

"Your Majesty." I murmur politely, managing to get to my feet and incline my head respectfully without showing myself up.

He extends his hand, palm down like a Bishop or something, and smiles expectantly, apparently expecting me to kiss it. As if I would, or could bend down that far in this corset. I'm not a tall woman but de Castro is not much taller than Thalia. Small but perfectly formed is the term I believe. He's crazy handsome, with black hair and deep dark eyes surrounded my thick long lashes, but he looks like Rick Moranis has been at him with his ray gun gizmo. Honey I shrunk the vampire.

Instead of giggling I smile.

Oh dear. Now he thinks I'm suitably pleased to meet him and he's going to graciously overlook my refusal to kiss his hand.

He lowers himself into the empty chair beside me and indicates for me to sit, which I do, reluctantly.

"How are you enjoying life as Northman's asset?" He asks, fixing his dark eyes on me and going straight for the glamour.

"Very well thank you." I answer politely, pretending to look away in embarrassment.

Damn! I can feel panic rising, how am I supposed to handle this?

Alcide's thoughts are wary and Thalia's are murderous, though she's resolved to step in if he tries it too obviously, it's against the rules for a vampire to try glamour on another's human.

Okay. I can do demure. I fold my hands on the table in front of me and twist them together nervously.

"My dear." De Castro says quietly. "There is no need to be nervous around me, please, let me see those pretty eyes."

I whinny like a pony, glancing up briefly before looking down again, amazed I can make a noise like that.

He's heard a rumour I can't be glamoured and he's determined to test it. Right now he's wondering if I've cottoned on to what he's trying to do.

"Are you looking forward to the ceremony?" He asks solicitously.

I nod.

"Come now Ms Stackhouse." He teases. "I know quite a bit about you already. Nervous and shy you are not."

Fine.

I raise my head to find him regarding me steadily. Immediately he focuses on my eyes and I can feel his will pushing against my shields. It's much clearer than it's ever been before, it used to just feel like a gentle pressure. Now, however, I realise that I can visualise his _will_ like an extending tentacle, it's solid enough to me that I wonder if I could take hold of it with my mind, bend it, use it. If I could will him to get up and walk away? But I don't dare, if he realises what I'm doing . . . .

After about the thirty seconds our staring contest is making my eyes water and I avert them to scan the room.

He chuckles lightly, sounding amused, but inside he's fuming, my being glamour resistant has put a slight kink in his preferred plan for the evening.

"So you cannot be glamoured." He observes.

"No."

"How very interesting, a side effect of your gift?"

"I would imagine so."

We're not exactly fighting but all pretence at charm has fled, only fake smiles remain.

"Everyone has a method of being _controlled_ Ms Stackhouse."

I supress a shudder. One of my nightmares.

"It would give me great _pleasure_ to find yours." He purrs, leaning into my personal space.

He's watching to see how I react and though I know I should show the appropriate level of fear and back away I can't bring myself to do it. Which amuses and angers him, he's looking forward to breaking me in, he thinks Eric's been far too lenient with me, humans should not show any display of backbone as far as he is concerned.

"Perhaps you should consult my Master?" I suggest innocently. "He may be inclined to tell you."

De Castro's eyes flick to Eric who is deep in conversation on the other side of the room. He's wary of him but not afraid, however my reminder is enough to make him decide to take his leave for the time being, he sees no further benefit in pretending to be polite to me, he'll save his charm offensive for his negotiations with Eric.

"That was probably a mistake Princess." Thalia says quietly, leaning over my shoulder. "Nevertheless it was masterfully done."

Lovely. Ten minutes into the night and I've managed to piss off the powerful vampire who wants to turn me into a quivering submissive wreck and take Eric's kingdom away from him. I don't know how Eric can refer to me as an asset, I'm a complete liability . . . .

Flustered I can no longer concentrate on the new minds I can feel around me and instead I find myself focussing on the only other thing here that really interests me. The conundrum that is Eric. He confuses me, infuriates me and constantly has my emotions riding the roller coaster, sometimes waving their arms in the air, sometimes screaming in terror.

Oh well, at least I have an excuse to talk to him now. Turning my attention to the Eric light inside me I give it a little tug and immediately his eyes snap up to mine.

It takes a few minutes for him to extract himself from his conversation and cross the room, since everyone wants a moment with the new King.

"What happened?" He asks, dropping casually into de Castro's vacated chair like a lion settling down on a sun warmed rock.

"Not here Your Majesty." I answer quietly.

"Very well." He stands again, offering me his hand. "I have time for a little refreshment break before the ceremony."

Rolling my eyes at him I let him help me to my feet and wrap a long arm around my waist so he can lead me out of the Ballroom. Keeping a tight hold he escorts me down to my office, smiling, nodding and exchanging comments with everyone we pass. Inside he closes the door and releases me, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

"Nevada is after your Kingdom and wants to turn me into his drooling sex slave."

Silent, immobile, no fang. In short, mad as hell.

I know he's not angry with me but I step back anyway.

His hand lashes out, closing round my wrist and though I should attempt to pull away from and the wildness in his eyes I don't. After what feels like minutes I sense him finally calm down, marvelling that so much turmoil can be contained in such a still exterior, if I'd felt even a tenth of what he was I would have been climbing the walls.

"Did he say anything?" He asks finally, edging closer.

"No. I read his mind."

"Is there anything I need to know about his plans now?" He asks, stepping toward me.

"Not that I could see." I answer craning my neck to keep my eyes on his face. "He doesn't seem to have a solid one, he's looking for an angle."

He falls silent, staring down at me and later I know I'm going to think myself out of this 'moment', but for now I can only accept what I can see in his face. This is the real Eric, making no effort to hide behind coldness, anger or innuendo.

He takes my other wrist gently, closing the rest of the distance between us as his thumbs brush the thin skin on the inside of my forearms.

"I do not like that you have to listen to such things in people's heads." He murmurs, traces of anger still showing in his eyes.

"You pay me to be able to hear these things." I point out.

"I did not mean Nevada's plotting, I meant his disrespect of you."

Oh.

"I will meet my true death before I allow him to touch you."

The air around us is fairly crackling with electricity.

"Eric . . . ."

"Sookie, I regret that there has not been time for us to talk again these past few nights but I would like us to, and _soon_."

I nod, the look in his eyes robbing me of my voice as he leans down.

He's going to kiss me, I shouldn't let him, we need to talk, we at least need to talk first . . . .

His lips meet mine and I close my eyes, surrendering to the feeling, allowing them control. Warmth steals through me, joining forces with the Eric light, synchronising us, the movement of our lips, the beating of my heart, my body undulating shamelessly against his. The electricity in the air has been attracted to something on my skin, clinging to it, shocking it, his thumbs on my arms the lightening conductors. Gasping I open my mouth and his tongue plunges inside, stroking, exploring, stimulating, claiming, duelling almost negligently with mine, teasing it, leading it on . . . . making my stomach turn over, my knees tremble . . . . my mouth opens wider, admitting him deeper, something inside me desperate to draw him in, my hands fisting in the fabric of his jacket at the waist, his sliding up my arms until they are able to splay out on my shoulder blades, pulling our chests together . . . . he inhales roughly, dragging the breath from my body, attacking my mouth with renewed vigour . . . . pressing into me so hard I stagger back against the door with an echoing thud.

Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea.

I can't breathe . . . .

He pulls away, eyes shining with intensity.

"That wasn't talking." I object in a raspy, wanton, almost moan.

"Yes it was." He corrects hoarsely, lowering his mouth to mine again. "_Listen_ . . . ."


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 47 Jitterbug**

**SPOV**

Our 'conversation' was interrupted by Quinn, in search of the star of his show.

Eric kept me clamped to his side as we returned to the Ballroom, humans and weres moving past us in the opposite direction, enticed and chivvied to the buffet by Quinn's team.

Inside he handed me off to Thalia and Alcide, his eyes lingering on mine as Quinn led him away to the dais that had appeared in the middle of the dance floor.

Unlike the cocktail party portion of the evening everything now is quiet and serious. Unnerving in its intensity.

The lights are off and as the doors close we're plunged into total darkness.

Instinctively I back myself into the corner, sighing when Thalia and Alcide draw back with me.

Calm confidence is flowing through the bond and I will myself to relax, focussing on the Eric light inside me, sinking into it but letting my mind roam out . . . .

Quinn begins to speak and everyone's thoughts are thoughtful and respectful, their eyes focussed on Eric as he stands behind him with his head bowed.

I don't know the language he's speaking but Thalia does and with a twinge of guilt I home in on her thoughts.

She's so proud of Eric her chest is almost bursting. She's wishing Godric were here to see his son on the night of his first coronation. She's vowing to kill anyone who threatens our happiness, our safety. She's remembering, everything . . . .

These words, the same each time, Godric's coronation, hers . . . . the proper responses of the audience, the monarch . . . . the vows made to protect their subjects, their kind, their secrets . . . .

It's beautiful, the sentiment of the ceremony, the weight of the words, and I can feel myself getting swept up in it. But I can read their minds, see their lip service, that it means nothing beyond this moment. As soon as it is over they will be back at each other's throats, fighting for dominance.

It's so jarring with the atmosphere that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. No wonder Eric considered this the worst possible outcome, such noble possibilities, such a crock of absolute shit in reality. Why do they even bother?

I know he'll be a good King but suddenly it feels like he'll be wasting himself on it, fighting a losing battle, playing a pointless game . . . .

He sinks to his knees before Quinn, a sight so _wrong_ it has me starting forward, crashing into Thalia's back, a shout forming on my lips, a wild light springing up inside me.

She shoulders me back, pressing me into the corner with a warning hiss.

And then he's standing again, towering over the assembly, exuding power and invincibility.

Everyone bows.

Quinn says a few more indecipherable words.

Thalia releases me and I wrench myself out of the corner, crossing the room as fast and decorously as my 'fuck me' heels will allow.

Eric accepts me into his side without a word, winding his arm around my waist, not even breaking his conversation with the 'well-wishers' pressing around him.

This can't be right, I can see in their minds that this isn't right. Curious, conniving, cautious, jealous . . . .

But he wants me here and I have no inclination to go.

…..

Recessed lights have come on, the doors are open, and people are flooding in, the band is already set up and playing on the dais, a party atmosphere is breaking out all around us.

Regretfully I allow Thalia to ease me away from Eric and over to the bar.

"Princess cannot claim Master yet." She says quietly as we wait to be served.

"Claim?"

She presses a glass of champagne to my lips before I can complete my question, the bubbles go straight up my nose and her forbidding eyes go straight to my vocal chords. Fine. I'll ask later.

God, this stuff is _so_ good, it's going straight to my head. I swear I just saw Niall.

Can't have. I shake my head to clear it.

Alcide silently replaces my champagne flute with a glass of water.

"Thanks." I murmur.

He just smiles at me. He doesn't know what happened last time I over imbibed but he knows it was bad.

No matter what I keep telling myself I can't shake the giddy happiness from earlier, Eric can say quite a lot with his lips and tongue and what he was trying to tell me has turned my inner teenager to mush. My toes are tapping to the music as I scan the room happily.

The three of us are perfectly content to occupy our tiny corner of the bar, watching the great and good pass us by. A few people stopped by to say hello. Stan, who seems to be on a mission to dress less impressively the more important the occasion, if I didn't know him I would have assumed someone from the offices had sent him up to fix a computer. We chatted for a while and I'm pleased that my improved ability was able to confirm that he's a decent person. Charles and Pam both took time out of their fervid networking to visit with us. Charles was a charming as ever, Pam was complaining that Eric's Viking roots were showing and the party should have been a great deal more lavish. Quinn stopped by too, and several vampires who knew Thalia well enough not to terrified of her, popped over to say hello before beating a hasty retreat.

A few monarchs have come over to introduce themselves, curious about the human Eric seemed to favour so much, but no one has said or done anything inappropriate. For the most part their thoughts aren't too bad, even the ones who were wondering if he would tire of me and eventually be prepared to sell me. Still I wouldn't trust most of them as far as I could throw them.

The humans are a whole other story. There are no fangbangers here but that doesn't mean the palace isn't crawling with beautiful sophisticated women who would love nothing better than to get in Eric's pants. Dating isn't completely unknown for vampires, the King of LA has had a string of affairs with Hollywood actresses and New York has been seen escorting a supermodel around on more than one occasion. Apparently Eric has hit the big time, they want him his for his money and for what the profile of being seen with him could do for their careers. And what's in his pants. I've no idea what's in his pants, but I'm damn well gonna find out before they do . . . .

Whoa.

I swig down the rest of my champagne.

What happened to not wanting to be an asset with benefits?

Kissed right out of me apparently.

In the end I wouldn't sleep with Bill because I didn't care for him enough. I have entirely the opposite problem with Eric. Am I really not going to sleep with him, even though I'm coming to know that he wants me for more than just sex, blood and my disability, because my stubborn Stackhouse streak believes that I shouldn't? If it's waiting for a declaration of love from Eric it's going to be waiting a heck of a long time. Is that what's going to stop me, fear that he'll never love me? How would that be any less painful just because I kept my virginity out of the equation?

_Wow_. I can suck the fun out of anything when I put my mind to it.

Libido crushed. Spirits low.

Do you know what? No. I'm not making any high and mighty moral decisions based on what Gran taught me. In fact I'm not making any decisions at all, not even to throw my panties to the wind and have at him. I'm going to wait and see what happens, have that _actual_ talk I wanted earlier, and then I'm going to do what feels right.

"Does anyone want another drink?" I ask, getting me my feet and quietly groaning in relief as my corset releases its death grip on my insides.

Alcide checks his watch.

"I'll take a beer." He decides.

Thalia shakes her head, thinking about visiting the donor station as soon as she's 'off duty'.

There's a crush at the bar but the barman makes his way to me as soon as he's free, much to the chagrin of the people who've been waiting longer.

"Champagne and a Sam Adams please."

He whirls away to complete my order and I turn to look out over the Ballroom.

It _was_ Niall I saw earlier. He's dancing the Jitterbug with a dark haired beauty in a long sheath dress, who is laughing like a loon and struggling to stay upright when her skirt restricts her movements.

Despite the shock I smile, the pair of them look like they're having the time of their lives.

And their minds are warm, happy, and flitting away from me like butterflies . . . .

Fairy minds! No wonder they felt so familiar.

The woman falls into Niall's arms, laughing even harder and the pair of them turn to face me.

Crap!

What's he doing here? Was he invited? Does Eric know? Is there going to be trouble?

I've an urge to sprint over and hug him, let him hold me tight and tell me everything is going to be okay. But I can't. I'm afraid of him now. Of the things he's done, the things I don't know, of being a fairy.

I need to get out of here, find somewhere quiet to think, before I face him . . . .

But he's already hurrying toward me, tugging the still laughing woman along with him.

"Sookie." His face lights up as he crashes to a stop in front of me, sporting a smile that would melt glaciers. "You look beautiful, I am so happy to see you."

"Um?"

"This is my Consort, Aghavilla."

The dark haired beauty smiles at the startled expression on my face.

"It is just a word Princess." She says, rolling her eyes playfully at Niall. "We can talk about it later. But please, call me Aga, all the family do."

Reeling. My head is reeling and my body is threatening to join in. That Princess word again. Consorts. Family. Fairies. _Here_.

I've never wanted to be a 'fainter' more in my entire life.

I never get what I want . . . .

**EPOV**

I badly wish to be free of this three ring circus. Perhaps then, when the last guest has left town and the last meeting has been completed, I can work to regain some semblance of control over my life.

But first I have to get through tonight.

I have managed to accomplish most of what was required this evening. I have been crowned, although I put my foot down and refused to physically wear one. I have spoken to Cataliades and he has promised to contact Sookie's relative and request a meeting. I have arranged a meeting with de Castro for first thing tomorrow night, he was annoyed that I put him off but I could not have dealt with him now, I am still too angry. I have spoken to every celebrity, politician and vampire that was required of me and I have been well behaved and charming.

And now I want to talk to Sookie. I have waited and prevaricated long enough. I do not completely understand what is going on between us but instinctively I know that she is what I need to put the final puzzle pieces together.

I also know that I want to be near her, to be able to touch and hold her. Did she feel that in our kiss? It was all there, my complicated and not always understood need for her, leaving me naked and exposed, even without speaking the words.

I have not made anything easy for her but she is still here and she _listened_ to me with everything she had . . . .

"Your Majesty." Charles's voice is amused. "Have you heard a word I just said?"

"Of course." I raise my eyebrow at him. "You came to the conclusion that I was not paying attention and decided to ask me if you could use several million of my dollars to create a jewel encrusted run for the lop eared rabbit you have decided to buy."

He laughs.

"I am always paying attention Charles, you should know that. I merely did not wish to answer your question."

"Fine. If you will excuse me then Your Majesty there are some very attractive young ladies here and I am feeling the urge spread some, _charm_."

I laugh as I watch him glide away. Charles and I have staged many successful and highly rewarding charm offensives in our day. There _are_ some extremely beautiful women here tonight but I am only interested in one. She is unsettled and nervous and it takes me a few moments to find her in the crowd.

Cataliades's infuriating human is with her and I cross the room, my eyes fixed on Sookie's upset face. He has gone too far this time, baiting me is one thing, messing with her is entirely unacceptable.

Reaching her I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side, enjoying the way she relaxes into me and fixing _him_ with an icy stare that clearly indicates my displeasure.

"Are you alright?" I ask her quietly, pointedly ignoring the large human and the dark haired woman who I assume is his date.

"Eric." She says softly, watching my face with worried eyes. "This is my Great Grandfather, Niall . . . ."

I blink, and things start tumbling into place.

The arrogant, _non-human_, steps forward offering me his hand, a highly amused smirk on his handsome face.

"Brigant. Niall Brigant." He chuckles.

His eyes are dancing with mischief as I shake his hand, briefly, before I even realise what I'm doing. Almost groaning out loud . . . .

Her relative, her Great Grandfather, is not _A_ Fairy. He is _THE_ Fairy.

Niall Brigant. Prince of the Sky Fae. Emperor of the Realms. Defender of the Treaties. King of Faery. Keeper of the Portals. The Punisher. And so many more titles that I could recount if asked. As old, powerful and remorseless as the great oceans themselves.

Here.

Real.

The blood relative of the woman whose body my arms are suddenly circling protectively.

I do not know whether to laugh, cry, or simply fall to my knees and beg for mercy . . . .


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 48 First Contact**

**SPOV**

Eric's arms are wrapped around me, drawing me back into his body and away from Niall. I don't know what he's concerned about, but considering my own mixed feelings about my Great Grandfather, I'm not surprised that Eric's concern is arcing across into me like a lightning bolt. Threatening to shred our bond wide open and let all of him flood into me.

Now is such an inappropriate time for me to be stretched out twitching on the floor, yet his light inside me is blazing like the sun . . . . I feel like I'm going to explode . . . . or scream . . . . or multitask and nail both . . . . but there are several minds here that are already focussed on our weird tableau, Alcide, Thalia, Pam, Charles, and worse, de Castro . . . .

With more strength than I knew I possessed I take the deepest breath of my life, plastering my Crazy Sookie smile on, straightening in Eric's arms and even managing to tug one loose. He resists me for a split second but I bombard our connection with certainty and he acquiesces, pulling me into his side and turning us both to face Niall.

In my periphery I can see Charles go back to amusing his leggy brunette, Alcide and Thalia deliberately focussing on each other and Pam politely disengaging from her conversation to sway casually toward us. My focus is shot, I've lost de Castro and I can't spare the mental capacity to look for him.

Pam arrives, leaning briefly in, air kissing Niall's cheek and then doing the same to woman with him.

"How lovely to see you both again. Isn't it Eric?" She gushes, turning to us with a whispered. "What the _fuck_?"

Charles's lips quirk as he fights a smile and, bizarrely, my simple amazement that he can hear that well, he's on the other side of the room, grounds me, sets me back in touch with my senses, snaps the room back into focus.

"De Castro's coming." I hiss under my breath.

He's totally focussed on us, rabidly curious, _intent_ . . . .

"Your Majesty!" Charles calls out, cutting him off, his leggy brunette firmly in tow. "I promised to show you the very best of New Orleans, please allow me to start by introducing you to Helena, she is a vampire rights activist and an award winning documentary film maker . . . ."

I turn my attention to Niall, whose smile would melt glaciers.

"_Wonderful_." He says, clapping his hands together gleefully. "Northman, you certainly know how to assemble a loyal and talented team."

A growl rumbles deep in Eric's chest, vibrating his body against mine, sending tremors of shadow through the Eric light in sympathy, and looking up I marvel again at his ability to hide what he's really feeling behind an impenetrable mask. He looks exactly the same as he has all night though what he's feeling is impotent fury.

"Crisis averted." My Grandfather continues with an indulgent chuckle.

"What do I call you?" Eric asks quietly and I glance up at him again, as if his face will give me any clues.

"For now you may call me Niall." My Great Grandfather smirks. "But if you feel an overwhelming urge to genuflect when we are in a more private setting we can discuss it again."

Eric vibrates with another soundless growl and despite not knowing what the hell is going on my fingers on his waist begin to gently knead him of their own volition. His body doesn't relax but he does stop growling, after a moment or two.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere to talk?" Niall suggests into the ensuing silence. "Desmond intimated that you wished to speak with me?"

…..

On an occasion like this a simple desire to talk is not so easy to accomplish and it was a full hour before we assembled in Eric's office, leaving Charles and Pam to bid farewell to the last of the guests.

Eric is perched on the edge of his desk, Aga seated demurely on one of the ornate sofas, Niall straight backed in a straight backed chair and me, standing, despite the crippling pain of my shoes, hovering indecisively, wringing my hands for good measure. The weight of what I don't know trying to crush me into the carpet like a potentially troublesome stain.

Tense, nervous, silence. I thought I was getting used to them but apparently not . . . .

"Alright." Niall asks finally with an amused smile. "Who wants to go first?"

Eric's eyes immediately snap to me and he raises an eyebrow, but I shake my head, shrinking in on myself, I wouldn't know where to start . . . .

He sighs, closing his eyes, almost stifling me with the depth of his resignation.

"Sookie does not know who you are." He says, finally opening his eyes and fixing them heavily on Niall.

Niall shifts in his seat, capturing me with his slightly apologetic gaze.

"And you think I should explain?" He asks Eric quietly. "Do you think it will make any difference to her?"

"No." Eric's voice is hoarse but I can't look away from my Great Grandfather's rueful smile to find out why. "But she needs to know."

…..

I don't know how I didn't sink into the nearest chair, nor dissolve into that carpet stain that would have so vexed Smith in the morning.

I felt like I was alone there, learning such potentially life altering things, like the dream recipient of the world's most barbaric pop quiz. Sookie Stackhouse, this is your heritage, live up to it, grasp it, understand it . . . .

But I wasn't alone. When Niall finally stopped speaking I found myself at Eric's side, leaning against his desk, our hands resting behind us on the wood, fingers twisted together. Pulse, light, and breathing in perfect synchronicity. Marvelling that he's still here, hasn't shoved me at Niall and run for the hills . . . .

I can't look at Niall but Aga is smiling at me gently, like she understands my chaotic thoughts.

This is somehow far worse than being a mildly disabled waitress. Nobody expects much from busty blonde waitresses, except maybe to get their beer pitcher refilled in a timely manner, or their face slapped when they go too far of a Saturday night. What's expected of a Fae Princess? Great Granddaughter of the most powerful supernatural figure in existence? Powerless, Great Granddaughter of the most powerful supernatural figure in existence.

I feel sick . . . .

I want to clutch at Eric for reassurance but I don't have the courage. It's asking too much. The feeling of solidarity I have from his close proximity could just be an illusion, surely I'm too much of a burden for anyone to bear, let alone a mortal enemy with a myriad of problems of his own . . . . no 'benefits' can be worth that . . . .

Once again I'm regretting my issues with Gran could never be resolved, unworthy bitch that I am, I'd quite like to slap her right now, what was she _thinking_ . . . .

Jesus.

"The contract?" Eric asks quietly, breaking the silence.

Of course, there's so much more here than just my issues, Eric's . . . .

Niall sighs and I find myself able to look at him as he focusses on Eric.

"Your Maker and I were friends." He says seriously.

"Friends?" Eric's voice is incredulous.

"Yes, friends, Northman. Do we need a dictionary for this conversation?" Niall responds testily.

"_Niall_." Aga objects softly.

My Great Grandfather blows out a long breath.

"Thalia, Godric and I met many years ago but it is not all my story to tell." He pauses, seemingly pained by the memory. "Thalia may wish to share it with you."

My heart is hammering in my chest, I know some of it, she was thinking about it earlier during the ceremony. Sometimes I hate being able to do this, Eric deserves to know, but like Niall it isn't my place to tell him . . . .

He obviously wants to demand more but after a moment his anger subsides and he nods, briefly.

Niall settles himself more comfortably in his chair.

"My son, Fintan, Sookie's Grandfather, and I were not always on the best of terms. He was my youngest and the most like me. He did not wish to be defined by my existence, his relationship to me, he wished to live his own life and make his own way.

When I took the decision to close the Portals between realms and appoint the Keepers, he was one of the Fae who chose to remain here. Though we met from time to time over the years he told me very little about his life and he used his magic to hide it from me."

He is silent for a moment, contemplating the past.

"Most of the Fae who chose to stay in this realm did so out of opposition to me, there were times when I feared that my son was one of them."

Oh Niall . . . .

"I knew nothing about his children, my Grandchildren, Great Grandchildren, until he died and his magic faded.

You were little more than a babe in arms Sookie but already I could sense your spark.

No one knew about any of you and I wanted to respect Fintan's obvious wish for you to lead normal lives. So I watched over you."

He intense gaze turns back to Eric.

"But I have not lived as long as I have by failing to plan ahead. I knew you were Sheriff here so I sought out Godric, he agreed that Sookie's obscurity could not be guaranteed and he agreed that you, his beloved son, would be the best person to protect her, he countersigned the contracts that were drawn up in readiness."

"Why?" Eric's voice and emotions are congested and if I didn't think he'd hate me for it, I'd hug him.

"Because he also believed in souls."

"That is not an answer." Eric grinds out.

"No. But it is all the answer I should give you at this point." Niall looks sympathetic and maybe a little excited and expectant. "I realise Northman that asking you to trust me as you trust my Great Granddaughter is an exercise in futility at the moment, but nevertheless I ask it. Know that Godric loved you and only ever had your best interests at heart when he agreed to this, neither he nor I intended for this to cause you harm. Quite the opposite."

Eric's body vibrates with a silent growl that surprisingly calms when I stroke his fingers with mine where they are still joined on the desk behind us.

"The situation amused you." Eric observes.

"Yes. You are a strong vampire and a proud one. I apologise but my life has become very boring of late, your reaction to being so trapped was highly entertaining."

Oh dear, here it comes, right up from the toes, just like last time, how dare he do that to Eric, he could have been killed. With super human effort I manage to keep my mouth closed over the vomit of harsh words threatening to spew out of me. Mouth shut, keep it shut, let Eric handle this.

"Why did you cancel the contract?" Eric asks.

"It was no longer necessary." Niall shrugs with a grin.

"She is safe then?"

"No, of course not, she is a Fae Princess living in your realm. In what way will that ever be safe?"

"Then why." Eric presses with extreme patience. "Is the contract no longer necessary?"

"You are protecting her are you not? You have entered into negotiations with the Britlingens, have you not? You are committed to her safety whether she chooses to stay with you or not."

"That is beside the point." Eric snaps, edging away along the desk, breaking the contact of our fingers, leaving me suddenly cold.

"No." Niall chuckles nastily. "Actually I think you will find that is _precisely_ the point."

"You are saving money?" Eric observes coolly, raising his eyebrow. "How very pragmatic of you . . . ."

Niall's eyes narrow dangerously and they're off. Testosterone stare down, this is usually the part of the night where I fetch Sam and he gets his baseball bat from behind the bar . . . .

Aga must be sensing the same thing because she rises to her feet and walks across to place her hand on Niall's shoulder.

There is a long tense silence.

"I protect what is mine Northman." Niall's voice is low and compelling. "I dealt with Newlin's bombers and the man himself. I removed Madden from the equation because he was a danger to my Great Granddaughter and the ones she cares about. I rescued Thalia and your child for the same reason. I will continue to do so whenever I feel it necessary."

"Your interference risks her exposure." Eric growls.

"Then perhaps, now that we know each other, we should work together to stave that off for as long as possible?" Niall suggests, suddenly the picture of reasonableness.

Such a shame I can't be.

"Excuse me." I huff. "_I_ am right here and _I _would like a say in all this!"

Eric tenses and Niall smiles at me.

"Of course my dear. You have choices. You do not have to stay in this realm. You would be most welcome, and much safer, in Faery. It is where you belong."

Behind us, on the desk, Eric's large hand closes over mine.


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 49 But You Cannot Make it Drink**

**EPOV**

My hand is resting over hers. No, not resting exactly, pressing it into the highly polished wood, holding it in place.

Her abrupt explosion has not come as a surprise to me, and despite once accusing me of knowing her best, her Great Grandfather does not appear shocked by it either. I am no real judge of Fairy but he seems to be enjoying it.

He is evil and manipulative. Agreed.

He is a power mad dictator with delusions of grandeur who risked my life and those of the people I care about without once considering whether or not it was right or fair. She is still naïve of the supernatural world, I may not like what he has done, I may wish I could kill him for it, but I respect his ability to do it. I do not think he is power mad, just powerful.

He killed people in her name without once consulting her. I understand why she would object to that, not that that means I believe her to be correct in her regard for the rights of the undeserving or those who wish her harm.

He dazzled her with 'safe' stories of the Fae, never once bothering to acquaint her with the truth.

When she demands to know 'why the fuck' she would want to move to Faerun on his say so I can't stop myself from smirking, even when his eyes flick briefly over mine without disrupting his polite attention to Sookie's tirade.

He endangered me. Put me through hell. Emasculated me.

That last bit makes me wince, which makes _him_ smile, and then she's done, emotionally and verbally spent, her head hanging down as if her neck is no longer able to support it.

I squeeze her hand slightly as she calms, already regretting her outburst, embarrassment for it suffusing her body with extra warmth.

I glare at him, letting my loathing show, not that he is perturbed, he stares back, still sporting his politely bland demeanour, reaching up to pat the woman's hand which has not moved from his shoulder.

We appear to be waiting for something and the silence is oppressive.

How I would love to kill him in this moment, tear him apart with my bare hands, rip into his flesh with my fangs. So many reasons, such regrettably little chance of a successful outcome.

Finally Sookie takes a deep breath and raises her head again, I can imagine the heat of the gaze she is fixing the Fairy with, her predilection for what she considers polite southern manners does not completely hide the warrior queen within, she is still angry. He should be proud . . . .

"What happens now?" She asks in an icy tone.

"That is up to you." He answers, smiling like he has just won the lottery. "There is more that you need to know, that I should tell you."

"Humph." She is not pleased, just resigned and a little afraid.

"If you do not wish to come with me now I would like to suggest that we meet again tomorrow."

My hand, which does not appear to be ruled my head at the moment, flattens hers into the wood again.

She is unsure. Does she want to go, despite her outburst? Certainly she has little real reason to remain here.

Or is she unsure of her welcome? She knows being Fae in the vampire world is an issue on many fronts, she knows it is an issue to me. She may believe that issue has just become insurmountable. And perhaps it has, but she is entitled to a choice.

"Sookie is welcome here for as long as she wishes to be." I offer. "I will see to her safety."

"Of course you will Northman." He snaps, suddenly testy again. "We have already established that. Would you like to tell her why?

What?

He throws up his hands, dislodging the woman's hand from his shoulder.

"Niall." She murmurs, fighting back a smile. "You can lead a horse to water . . . ."

He takes an exaggerated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

"Fine." He huffs. "Sookie, I apologise, I realise this is difficult for you but know that I have always had your best interests at heart. We really do have more to discuss and I hope you will be willing to do so though it is growing late and now probably is not the time. May we meet again tomorrow?"

Sookie turns her attention to me, her eyes pleading.

"I have a meeting with de Castro just after first dark." I answer for her. "It should not take too long."

"Your presence is not required." He observes, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"If Eric is willing it's required by me." Sookie growls quietly.

Apparently it is not just my hand which is dancing to the beat of a different drum, my whole arm has joined the party, snaking around her waist, pulling.

She resists briefly and then allows it to draw her to my side, the fabric of her dress sliding easily across the desktop until she is leaning into me.

The contrary Fairy is grinning from ear to ear, his smile like a lighthouse beam.

"Very well." He agrees happily. "Be careful with de Castro Northman, he is an empty vessel but still a dangerous one, let me know if my assistance is needed."

My chest vibrates with a soundless growl which cuts off when Sookie's tiny arm slips around _my_ waist. Is it actually possible for that smile to split his face in half? He looks like a frog. No, more poisonous toad, or snake . . . .

"We will take our leave then." He decides, rising so abruptly even I flinch. "I will know when you are done with Nevada, I will come then."

I nod but my chin has not even completed its dip before he and the woman vanish with a faint pop, leaving the room cold, still and quiet.

Sookie's curse word drowns out my own Old Norse oath, breaking the tension slightly as we both laugh.

Her corset, damn Pam, she knows me so well, is firm to my touch, allowing her dress to slide over it in a way I have been acutely aware of all night.

For me at least, the tension in the room shifts, taking on a different flavour, building to a different explosion.

I have grown so accustomed to tempering my attraction to her that its heightened presence now surprises me, The Prince of the Sky Fae being her blood relative should have quashed any lingering desire for her body with my own sense of self preservation. Yet I want her more now than I ever have . . . .

"I'm sorry." She whispers, turning her face into my chest, her hot breath flowing over me, setting a tingle to my skin even through my jacket.

I tense automatically. No, she is not. It is a game, a ruse, a _wile_ . . . .

"None of this is your fault." I respond, because it is the truth.

"Not deliberately . . . ." Her soft voice fades to nothing.

Silence, as tense and awkward as me. The air around us is growing thicker with every beat of her heart.

This situation is so dangerous, it requires my attention, for all our sakes. Duty first, it has always been so, in my human life and in Godric's. Always duty first, survival . . . .

"My feet are killing me." She murmurs, kicking off her shoes and fisting her toes in the luxuriant shag of the carpet.

Her feet are small but perfectly formed, I have noticed this before.

My arm is still around her waist, her body still leaning into me, warm. Does she belong here? Do I want her to? Would I willingly let her leave? Would I willing let her lithe body move away from mine in this instant? Would I rip away her dress and bury myself inside her? Would I sink my fangs into her neck as I thrust? Would I be able to stop myself, if that was what she wanted? Would that make her mine?

She is Fae. I do not know how to make her mine, how to keep her, if that is what I want . . . .

She is tired.

"You are tired."

"Not really." She responds. "I don't think I could sleep."

Sleep Sookie, you need to sleep, I need you to sleep . . . .

"Thanks." She says quietly. "For offering to be with me tomorrow . . . ."

Do not say anymore . . . . _please_ . . . .

"I really appreciate it. I know that you don't need to look out for me with my family stuff, you've got far better things to do."

My groan of near pain causes her to pull away from my chest and look up at me, thickening the tension until it is chewable, apparently trapping us both in it like flies in molasses.

So beautiful . . . . such Vampire Bait . . . . how little I realised . . . . how much I have been able to surprisingly ignore . . . .

Why the sudden failure?

It is like the first time I saw her. From her painted toe nails to the golden crown of hair atop her head, how she looks just as good now, despite what I know. And I know her curvaceous, womanly body better now, though less than I should, tonight's less than demure dress doing nothing to hide it. Her skin is still flawless and golden, still glowing with vitality, despite the nights I have forced her to be by my side, how does she do that? I inhale and the fresh clean scent of her blood, mixed with the aroma of the lotion she has used to moisturise her skin hits me in just the way it always has. Time stands still and lust rips through my startled body like electricity, threatening to pull my fangs from my gums.

Her lips are slightly parted as she studies my face.

Duty, self-preservation, a need to break the spell.

"I will see you safely to your room, I should speak with Pam and Charles before they retire for the day."

Her spirits plummet and she tries to pull away but my unruly arm will not allow it. Instead I stand, sweeping her into my arms, she will be in her room, away from me, that much quicker this way. She stiffens and then relaxes, resting her head against my chest with a resigned sigh.

The foyer is deserted as I flit us through and up the staircase.

Her eyes open again as I lay her down on her bed, trapping me in place as surely as a hobo bolt.

Her hair is fanned out around her like a golden cloud, her soft beautiful hands resting on her stomach, her slender legs bent slightly and angled toward me, knees demurely together. Her eyes are wide, gazing at me with an unfathomable expression, her lips slightly parted again.

I did not move quickly enough, the thick cloud in my office has clung to us like a comet trail, settling around us again, stronger this time. It sucks _my_ strength from me until I slump down on the bed beside her, closing my eyes, willing it to go away . . . .

I tense even further when she rolls toward me, hauling herself up so she can smooth the creased skin between my tightly shut eyes with the tip of her finger, unconsciously pressing herself against me.

No, no, no, no, no . . . .

After a moment I drape my arm around her, stroking my fingers across the soft fabric of her dress, feeling the corset beneath.

"It creaks when you move." I observe.

"No." She sighs regretfully, her head resting on my shoulder. "I think that's me, its tight, Pam's a sadist."

It's on the tip of my tongue to offer to unlace it, I know how they work . . . .

"I should go . . . ." I offer instead.

"Please . . . ." She breathes. "Don't . . . ."

"_Sookie_ . . . ."

Her warm hand falls away from my face to rest lightly on my chest, it almost burns me through the thick fabric of my dress shirt.

Fuck.

"Talk to me Eric."

"_Sookie_ . . . ."

"I need you to talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what I should do Eric. Help me work out where I belong . . . ."

My free hand closes over hers, wrapping around it as I open my eyes, willing her to look up as I look down.

It seems to take forever but eventually, like a flower to the sun, she raises her face to mine.

She is beautiful, no matter what she is.

Tell me what you want me to say Sookie, do not let me do this . . . .

Her lips tremble as I claim them, apparently afraid of what might be said, but she is too strong to flinch away, she wants to listen and I can no longer fight the pressure to speak . . . .


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 50 The Measure of His Surrender**

**EPOV**

It is instinctive to roll my body over hers as our kiss deepens and takes on a life of its own, to tangle my hands in her hair and push them into the soft down pillow either side of her head, to allow my body to force hers to mould to it as I press her into the mattress.

Instinctive to flex my hips into hers.

Instinctive to groan into her mouth as her nails dig into my shoulders and rake down my back, even blunted through my jacket. . . . Her arousal is a welcome scent, one that has been burnt into my memory for such a long time . . . . When she begins to gasp for breath I turn my attention to her jaw, her ear, the skin just below it, her neck . . . . Her scent, her taste and her reactions are intoxicating, as she pushes back against me.

One hand releases itself from her silken hair, needing to feel, ghosting over her upper body, palming her breast, fisting and bunching the soft fabric of her dress over her the corset at her waist. Dropping down to flex around her hip and fasten onto her buttock, squeezing the soft perfection of it before sliding down her thigh to lift it so I can grind into her more forcefully.

_Sookie_.

My lips find hers again, crushing them almost brutally as I invade her mouth with my tongue.

Her hands are attempting to push my jacket off my shoulders and I arch my body away from hers to help her, welcoming the burn on my skin through my shirt as she slides it down my arms. Flicking them quickly to shake it loose so I can hurl it the floor and press my chest against hers.

The fabric of her dress shifts beneath me, gliding over her corset, buffering our bodies, masking her softness.

Keeping our mouths latched together I kneel, pulling her body with mine so I can find the fastenings of her dress and rip them asunder . . . . the lacings of her corset quickly follow and I feel her deep intake of breath as I press her beneath me on the bed again . . . . grinding my hips into her over and over as my tongue plunges into her soft warm mouth . . . . her legs are fighting her dress in their desire to wrap around me and abruptly I lose patience with it . . . . ripping it away from her in one fell swoop, impatiently shoving the fragments away from us . . . . done my hand wraps around the corset at her waist, squeezing it, hearing both of them groan . . . . then it's gone too and my hand is on her soft flesh . . . . kneading it gently . . . . my thumb ranging up from her waist to brush over her ribs . . . .

_Sookie_.

I break our kiss and rise up on my arms to look down at her.

Her skin is flawless, golden and smooth, the finest silk, almost frictionless. Her plump breasts, released from the restrictions of her corset, are firm and proud, her nipples exactly the pale shade of coral pink I have always envisioned. Lacy white suspenders ride low on her hips, the straps reaching past the light smattering of blonde hair at the junction of her thighs to join with the shimmering silk stockings that reach midway up them.

Exquisite.

My throat is dry. My fangs too stunned to rip free of my gums as I look up to meet her heavy lidded gaze. Her hair is in disarray, her lips parted and swollen. There is no shame or regret in our bond as I let my eyes wander over her body, committing every detail to memory, only anticipation tinged with a little fear.

I have been such a fool to resist this for so long, when I have had such tantalising glimpses, have always known . . . .

Wanting to feel her scorching heat directly against me I remove my shirt quickly before pressing her into the mattress again with my body, my lips and tongue once again tangling with hers, anchoring one hand in her hair and allowing the other to wander, feel, learn, enjoy.

Her arm . . . the muscles flexing under my touch . . . . the outer swell of her breast . . . . the dips between her ribs . . . . the ebb of her abdomen and the swell of her hip . . . . the smooth curve of her thigh . . . . the unbelievably soft skin at the back of her knee as I lift it slightly, my body settling between her thighs . . . .

The sounds she makes. Soft sighs, quiet gasps, low moans. All of them vibrating through her luscious body and into mine, making me resonate like a tuning fork.

My gratified hand makes its way slowly back up her body, weaving into her hair as my lips work down to her throat.

"_Eric_ . . . ." She moans as my other hand takes its turn, gliding down the opposite side of her on a painstaking exploration of its own.

My mouth has made its way down her neck, across each of her collar bones, the taste of her skin is better than any blood I have taken, except hers. Sucking, kissing, licking, nibbling, not rushing. When I reach the swell of her breast her body pushes up into mine and I sink a little further between her legs, rubbing myself against her inner thigh, her wanton moan sending blood straight to my throbbing erection.

Regretfully I arch my body away from hers, instantly missing the feel of our chests moving against each other, undulating my hips into her as consolation while I gaze down at her breasts. Her nipples are a darker coral now, hardening and swelling before my eyes.

Mesmerising.

I glance up to find her watching me through her hooded, darkened, eyes. Her hands, which have been roaming restlessly between my hair, back and sides, fasten behind my neck, tugging my head down to her heaving chest. I dip it obediently, flicking my tongue over one of her nipples, groaning as it stiffens and grows instantly, as she moans her own approval.

How is it possible that her skin does not taste the same all over, that her pores emit different but no less inflaming scents . . . . I could worship these breasts forever . . . . lose myself in them . . . . my other hand leaves her hair to fasten on her neglected breast, partaking of the miracle my mouth cannot share . . . .

_Sookie_.

"_Eric_ . . . ." She moans again, her hands fisting my hair, encouraging me, holding me against the tremors running through her body.

Hand and mouth swap, marvelling at the subtle differences between each breast and the change in her reactions . . . .

Her hips are raising steadily against me now and I cannot wait much longer. Kissing the skin between her breasts I make my way steadily back up her body, worshipping it with my lips and tongue again until we are once again pressed together, our mouths almost touching, eye to eye.

My conscious mind, absent for the last hour or so, attempts a reappearance, but Sookie's breathy moan and impatiently writhing body sends it scurrying away again, my own _epic_ lust suggesting it does not come back any time soon.

Instinct wants. Instinct has been waiting _forever_ for this. _**Forever**_ . . . .

"_Eric_ . . . . _Please_ . . . ."

For all the passion of our kisses on this bed the escalation as my mouth crashes into hers this time is titanic, threatening to undo me, take me apart and re-make in a different arrangement. How does she do that? Am I not the one with the thousand years of experience?

My free hand makes its way down her body quickly this time, my own making room for it as it slides between us to test her readiness. I can smell it . . . . I already know . . . . but now I can feel it . . . . liquid heat . . . . slick fire . . . . burning oil . . . .

My finger grazes over her clitoris and her reaction, the hiss, the buck of her hips, the blush on her skin, nearly sends me over the edge. No woman has ever affected me like this. Ever. My own urgent need slips away. I want to _see_, I want to _feel_, I want to add her reactions as she comes undone to the perfection already stored in my infallible memory. Slowly but remorselessly my thumb begins to circle the soft flesh covering her most sensitive nerves, one finger alternating between teasing her opening and swirling through the wet velvet of her.

Every immaculate reaction she has shown me so far escalates, her breathing, her moaned yet incoherent words, the flush on her golden skin, the sensuous undulation of her hips, her scent, the way she opens herself to me, the way her eyes burn into mine as I watch . . . .

Wanting to tease, prolong, revel, I slide my finger just inside her, circling it around the clenching muscles in time with the movements of my thumb. Her moans, though still soft, grow louder and I know it's time. My finger slides into her, and _fuck_, the heat, the moisture, the tightness . . . . the . . . . _what_?

"Sookie!"

My bare back is pressed against the grainy wood of her bathroom door. Her face and our bond are filled with hurt and surprise.

…..

I am pacing my room at a speed that would make even a watching vampire nauseous.

She is naked in her room and I am embarking on a walking holiday in mine.

Virgin.

Virgin, virgin, virgin.

Fuck.

I thought I believed, understood, that she was innocent of all the manipulation and wiles. Clearly I did not. _This_? This is how innocent, of everything, she really is. And I have no defence against it.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Me? Mine?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I have, at various times, believed, known, her to be many things. But this . . . .

What do I do with _this_?

I know what to do with this, breaking new ground is hobby of mine, deflowering virgins . . . .

But this is Sookie.

Why? Why me?

Me.

She is so much more than I have ever accused her of being.

And she is all I want.

**SPOV**

I hadn't the energy to shower so I scrubbed my face clean of makeup and brushed out my hair, shoving it into a messy ponytail, discarding my lingerie on the bathroom floor. Unwanted, like me.

Aimless, useless, hovering in front of the mirror in the subdued light.

Uncomfortably numb.

I don't know what I was thinking.

Oh right, I wasn't thinking, at least not with my head.

Why did I push him? _Why_?

I should have just taken myself off to bed, alone. God knows I had plenty I could have been thinking about while I waited for sleep, not even all Eric related this time.

I blame the tux and the stupid kiss earlier. And the champagne. I should not drink. I possibly even blame Niall, for winding me up, heightening all my senses until I desperately needed an outlet for my pent up energy and frustration.

And of course I blame me. For wanting him so much, for wanting him to be able to ignore what I am, for wanting him to be something he isn't.

I'm trying to think about this sensibly but it isn't easy. Tears are pricking my eyes. What is probably the most handsome man in the world just ran away from my bed, almost screaming. A girl's allowed to find that painful even if she isn't in love with him. Which I am.

I stare at my miserable reflection in the mirror.

Oh Stackhouse. What am I going to do with you?

You don't want to wait tables. You don't want to be a fairy. Your Great Grandfather's an asshole yet the only offer on the table. You want a man you can't have and even when you looked a million dollars you couldn't manage to lose your virginity to him.

My shoulders are slumped and I look as defeated as I feel.

I'm going to bed. I'll get some sleep, borrow another car from Vladimir in the morning, go home. I don't see how that's going to fix anything but at least it's a plan.

Turning off the light I yank the door open, plunged into blackness and walking straight out into a broad, hard, chest.

His arms lash out, closing round me to prevent me rebounding onto the bathroom floor.

I can't be bothered to move, besides my cheek seems to have adhered to his smooth, cool, skin.

"I did not realise you were a virgin."

"We're not obliged to carry a card in our purses Eric." I don't mean to sound bitter but I can't help it and its better than squirming with embarrassment.

"I am sorry." His voice is barely more than a whisper. "I was not expecting it."

I want to ask him why on earth it would make any difference but the Eric light inside me is re-tuning to my heartbeat, spreading its warmth through me and it's all I can focus on, the pulse of it leaching away my hurt. That and his delicious smell.

"Why would you offer yourself to me?" His voice is gentle, coaxing, and I really want to answer him but I'm not going to. Nuh uh. No.

"Sookie, why me, why now?"

"I don't know." I whimper, my lips brushing his skin as they move. "It just felt right . . . . I guess . . . ."

"And now?"

Now? You rejected me, shredded my self-esteem. Reminded me, again, that I don't know you as well as I think I do. I'm in my rattiest pyjamas and my fluffy bunny feet slippers. I don't feel remotely sexy or alluring. You're not kissing me like our lives depend on it and you're not running your hands over my naked body like it's the only thing in the world you can feel, I can't see your eyes from down here in your amazing chest and you're not driving me crazy with desire.

But I want you to be . . . .

His huge hands are cradling my back and one of them slides up, curling into my ponytail, pulling it until I have no choice but to look up at him. The vampire blood is still doing its thing, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I can see clearly into his.

"You think I do not want you?" The throaty, low, intense quality of his voice makes my stomach turn over slowly and I can feel the heat from earlier liquefying my muscles.

"I know you want me Eric. I can feel it in our bond. You just don't want me enough."

He laughs, bitterly, pulling my ponytail a little harder, stretching and baring my neck, bending his head to run his nose lightly over the column of my throat, tightening his hand on my lower back to pull our bodies flush together until I can feel his 'want' pressed against me again. I think I may be moaning.

"How much is _enough_ Sookie?" He whispers into my skin, his tongue darting out to taste me.

"_Ungh_." My eyes roll back in my head.

Knees, must lock knees, must remain upright under own power.

He pulls back from my throat, eyes burning into mine again.

"Tell me what you want Sookie, I am giving up, giving in, I am yielding to you." His voice and face are raw. "You are winning. At least let me hear you say what you want."

Nuh uh. No. Never.

"I want _you_ Eric, all of you . . . ."

Oh.

His deep bass groan vibrates through both our bodies and then his mouth slants down over mine, his tongue plunging inside me, pulling a response a gasping, grasping, response from every cell in my body. Swamping the Eric light with its sheer power . . . .


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons**

**Chpt 51 More Than Words**

**SPOV**

His mouth and tongue are talking again, even the hands now fisted in my hair are telling me something.

I think I understand, I want to, but I've no confidence . . . .

Yet my lips, my tongue, my hands on his chest, I know _exactly_ what they're saying.

I want to belong here. I want this to be as right as it feels.

Am I taking an enormous risk?

Yes.

Am I afraid?

Oh yes.

Am I going to stop him?

No.

I want this, on some instinctive level whose ass I am probably going to want to kick in the morning, I want his. With him. And that will have to do because my ability to think coherently is being sucked out of me along with my breath.

Gasping my head falls back and Eric lowers his, taking the 'conversation' to my throat.

My hands, already wound tightly into his hair, are all that's holding me up. The Eric light is flaring again and I can feel it, insinuated as it is in my every cell, warming them, jostling the atoms.

Oh god, _Eric_ . . . .

His mouth has explored every molecule of the exposed skin of neck, leaving it damp and tingling in the air as he makes his way back to my lips, his hands tearing loose my pony tail before they drop away from me.

My heavy lidded eyes open fully, a little in fear, to find him staring at me . . . . like I'm the only thing he can see.

His lips don't actually meet mine again, but I can feel the ghost of the contact that doesn't come as he pulls away to look down at me, it's invisibly crackling in the air between us, like a paused video.

And then suddenly its playing again and his hands close around my waist, bunching the fabric of my pyjama top, sliding it upward, with no desire to fight him I lift my arms, allowing him to pull it from my body and fling it away.

His eyes darken as they rake over my bared, excited, chest but I don't have it in me to be ashamed, only warm, _needy_ . . . .

Those eyes fix on mine again as he crouches down, sliding my pyjama bottom over my hips and down my legs, gently removing the fluffy bunnies and lifting each foot to pull my bottoms free before tossing them away, the eyes staying on mine as he unfolds to his full height.

And I still don't feel any shame as my eyes drift down to watch him unfasten his leather belt, letting the edges fall away as he unbuttons his fly, pulls down his zipper and sets his tux pants tumbling to the floor with a whisper of expensive fabric.

A nervous and anticipatory moan escapes me has he hooks his thumbs into his boxers, bending to ease them off and throw them aside.

Oh my god. That's . . . . that's beautiful . . . . long and thick, and _beautiful_ . . . .

I half expect him to be smirking when I finally tear my eyes away from it. But he isn't.

I'm actually going to do this . . . . I swallow the ghost obstruction that's formed in my throat . . . . we're really going to do this . . . .

We're still staring into each other's eyes, naked as the day we were born, yet still I feel no awkwardness.

There's just me looking up and him looking down. About a foot of space between us.

My hand reaches out, coming to rest lightly on his chest, the muscles fluttering under my touch. This is the first time I've been able to do this, really feel him, give in to my desire to. The coolness of his skin and the lack of a heartbeat simply aren't an issue. He feels _right_. Absorbed I let my hand wander over his chest, up to his shoulders, down the outside of his arm, back up the softer skin on the inside. My other hand joins it, my fingers pushing themselves into his pecs, spreading out to brush over his nipples, hard, and down to play over the muscles of his abdomen. His every twitch, shift and sound burning into my brain.

And then he starts to breathe. I love it when he does that, the way it synchronises to mine . . . .

I step closer, never breaking our eye contact, sliding my hands down the outside of his torso until they're resting on his hips. My thumbs stroking his hip bones while my fingers knead what Jason always called his 'kidney protection'.

I can feel him bobbing against my stomach now, leaving little moisture kisses on my jumping skin.

Torn I bite my lip and Eric closes his eyes, his head tilting back slightly, inviting me to explore him. My hands slide down to cup his butt and _god_ if it doesn't feel as amazing as it looks. Reluctantly they leave it, tracing down his hard masculine thighs, from back to front, sliding back up grip his hips again.

His Adams apple bobs as he swallows and I have to look down again, one hand leaving his hip to flutter over his cock like a humming bird, gathering a little wetness from the tip but never really alighting, before it grabs back onto his hip and perceived safety.

My eyes dart back to his, still closed, and I gasp as one of his hands closes around mine, pulling it free and wrapping it around his shaft.

My fingers flex automatically, even though his hand has already moved away to rest by his side again.

His skin is like silk, yet what's inside is hard and unyielding.

I keep my eyes on his face as I slowly begin to move my closed hand up and down him, not trying to emulate what I've seen in countless minds, just wanting to feel. This is Eric. And for some ridiculous reason my heart swells with love for him, the beat of it almost physically changing, our bond, our breathing and his light adjusting to fit the new rhythm.

Unconsciously I rub my thighs together . . . . biting back a moan . . . . there's a familiar ache spreading in my belly, carried on the warmth of my agitating atoms . . . . I want him . . . . I want him to touch me . . . . my hand tightens on him automatically and he groans, his eyes snapping open and I gasp at the look in them . . . . the sound of his voices as he grinds out my name.

Another gasp as his long arms snatch me up, transferring me to the bed in a blur, naked body pressing me into the still protesting mattress as his mouth crashes down over mine, demanding and possessive, tongue easily parting my lips and taking possession.

His hands are all over any part of my skin they can reach, squeezing, stroking, urgent but not rough. Mine are probably rougher, there's so much of him, what if it's taken away before I can explore it all? His back, arms, sides, shoulders, neck, face. The way the muscles slide under his skin as he moves is mesmerising, so much power hidden inside him and I want it, I want it all for me . . . .

I'm giving in to the clenching ache and warmth inside me. My body pushing up against his, undulating, hips to shoulders and back as my tongue fights its way into his mouth. His taste, I've never thought about the way a man's mouth would taste until I truly kissed Eric . . . . The movement of my body goads his into responding and soon we're writhing together, rolling, grasping, moaning and groaning into each other's mouths. The feel of us, together like this, oh god there aren't words . . . .

Needing to breathe and needing to taste the rest of him my mouth breaks away from his, nibbling at his lips and jaw until his head throws back and my tongue can dart out to taste his throat. His groan as I sink my teeth lightly into the thin skin there vibrates both our bodies and he rolls me onto my back again, settling over me but angling away to give me better access. I prop myself up on my elbows, loving the way I'm caged by his body and arms, to let my lips and tongue explore his collar bones and upper chest, sometimes teasing with my teeth, since his deep bass groans suggest that he likes it. I can't tear my eyes away from his face though, his hair hanging down in a blonde curtain, his eyes closed, long lashes resting on his cheeks, his perfect lips slightly parted as he pants lightly above me. My heart swells again and my stomach turns over as my lips finally find his nipple, closing over it so my tongue can feel around it. His whole body stiffens and as my teeth pinch it lightly he sucks in a breath that hisses between his lips. Encouraged I lick and kiss my way to the other one, repeating the process until his eyes open, pulling my face back to his like magnets.

Lowering himself on his arms he presses me slowly back into the bed, my head dropping back onto the pillow as his lips hover over mine. I move to wrap my arms around his back but he captures them, twining our fingers together and pushing our joined hands into the pillow on either side of my head.

"Listen." He growls, kissing me softly. "You have to listen . . . ."

My eyes close as our bodies start moving against each other again, his settling slightly between my thighs, his lips ghost down my neck, kissing and tasting the skin as he moves inexorably lower. My shoulders, my upper arms, my breasts, my throbbing nipples rolled around his tongue and grazed by his teeth, my ribs, my stomach, each hip bone, the skin sucked lightly between his lips until I'm the one who is panting and hissing in need. So warm, so attuned to him, the wild hammering of my heart forcing us both to breathe faster, keep pace. I ache and there still aren't words . . . .

His tongue trails wetly back and forth across the skin between my hip bones and his hands gently disengage from mine, floating down my body until they hook under my thighs, lifting and spreading them, exposing me to his darkened gaze. Suddenly nervous my eyes fly open and I try to prop myself up but he shakes head gently, lips quirking into a smile.

"No." He commands quietly. "Close your eyes Sookie, _listen_ to me."

Instinctively I obey, closing them and sinking back onto the bed as his cool breath fans across my wet flesh.

"You are so beautiful Sookie." He murmurs, placing a light kiss on the inside of my thigh. "Even the parts of you I have only seen tonight are so much more beautiful than I imagined." He kisses my other thigh, swirling his tongue over it until I moan and my hips flex upward. "I'm going to taste you Sookie." Back to the other thigh, a light nip with his teeth. "I am going to pleasure you with my mouth." One thigh is released and a long finger glides unhurriedly through my folds. "With my hands." I moan again, my hips thrusting wantonly into his face. "I am going to take all the sweet nectar." He inhales deeply, his exhale chilling my skin but turning the warmth in my cells to heat. "All the sweet nectar between your thighs is mine, and mine alone." His possessive tone has me shuddering and whimpering. "Only for me Sookie, only ever for me. That is all I ask."

"_Yes_." I hiss as his tongue suddenly makes contact with my clit.

He hums in response and my hips jerk against him, my hands flying off the pillow to fist in his hair.

Both thighs are released to close around his head automatically as his thumbs spread me open to his tongue, allowing it to taste all of me with long lazy strokes. Oh my god, no words, not even sounds, my teeth are clamped together as my head begins to thrash from side to side. Moans and shouts trapped inside like hazardous materials, they shouldn't be, not with all that heat . . . .

The broad flat of his tongue, the hard tip, he's going to kill me with pleasure . . . . the vibrations as he hums against my slick hot skin, the fingers circling and teasing my opening . . . . _Never_ . . . . I don't even know where to start on how I've . . . . _ungh_ . . . . never felt like this . . . . so completely out of control . . . . _ungh_ . . . . my back arches off the bed as his tongue settles into a relentless pattern against my clit and the first sound, his name, escapes my compressed lips. I want . . . . I need . . . . so hot now . . . . _need_ . . . . _want_ . . . . _have_ to . . . . My whole body is thrashing, hands long since out of his hair and tangled in the sheets beneath me, twisting them, strangely compelled to tear them, something wound so tight inside me, tightening my muscles, that I feel like my arched back is hovering over the bed of its own accord.

An orgasm, mine, is coming, I can feel it. Like a tidal wave coming to douse the heat. Cool, to ease my struggling muscles. Coming, so close now . . . . Every muscle is locking solid as cold sweat breaks out on my skin and colored lights start to explode behind my eyes . . . . _Yes_ . . . .

I scream as two of his fingers suddenly invade me, my already clenching muscles gripping them, straining against them as they thrust and curl rapidly inside me . . . . over and over . . . . mouth open in a now silent scream . . . . his teeth replacing his tongue, clamping me between them, pinching, rolling . . . . Jesus Fucking _Christ_ and all the disciples . . . . more . . . . _brighter_ . . . . lights . . . . a flood of moisture . . . . clenching and shuddering as my body orgasms in _waves_ until it's finally spent and forced to relax.

Boneless. Weightless. Witless. Gasping. Amazed. Trembling with aftershocks.

Awareness . . . .

Eric's mouth is still on me, idly lapping up everything I have unwittingly given him and I want to scream again at the sensation, my hips writhing away from him instinctively.

Chuckling, and according to our bond immensely pleased with himself, he places a last kiss on me, which has my hips jerking reflexively, before worshipfully working his way back up my still shuddering body, tasting and apparently enjoying my sweat coated skin as he goes.

My breathing still hasn't returned to normal and yet his is still matching it, lungful for lungful.

Despite my _epic_ orgasm I'm still warm, tingly, achy, needy . . . . Turned on by the feel of his cool body working its way up my hot sweaty one until we are flush together again, his lips hesitating over mine. I have no such qualms, I just want to feel his mouth on mine, the surprisingly perfect taste of me on his tongue is just an unexpected bonus that drags a moan from me and an answering groan from him. It escalates in seconds, our tongues as deep in each other's mouths as they will go, our bodies once again writhing together, hands tangled in each other's hair.

I can't believe I still _want_ . . . . or that that want is so _strong_ . . . .

Our restless movements soon have him resting between my thighs again, this time with the tip of his hard length moving through my flesh, teasing it as his teeth nibble on my neck.

"_Eric_ . . . ." My hands tug at his already well abused hair as I try to bring us closer together, to clarify my all-consuming need.

I'm aching again, warm, wet, ready. And I want him, only him . . . .

"_Sookie_ . . . ." He groans, sucking the skin of my neck between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue.

"_Ungh_." My hips roll up into him, capturing his tip against my entrance and this time he stills our obsessive movement, keeping us there as we stare into each other's eyes, raising himself up on his arms.

"Do you still want all of me Sookie?" He asks, flexing his hips into me, his tip breaching me.

"Yes." I gasp, my own hips moving to suck him a little deeper.

He stills us again.

"Do you know what you're asking for?" His gaze is intent, unavoidable.

My hands wrap around his shoulders, fingers and nails digging in. I know he's not just talking about sex, I'm not stupid, but my answer is the same. I love him. I want all of him.

"Yes."

And without thinking I open up our bond, all the way.

The sheer force of _him_ practically flattens me to the bed and I struggle to keep my grip on his shoulders, keep myself anchored to him, where I desperately want to be.

"Then listen to me as I make love to you." He whispers over the mental maelstrom. "And know that you have had all of me since the first time I saw you . . . ."

"_Eric_." Help me, I'm drowning, it's too much . . . .

I can feel him moving against me, venturing further inside my body with each slow thrust, and I want it . . . . there's no discomfort, no pain . . . . but I can't focus on it . . . . there's so much of him . . . . physically and emotionally . . . . flooding me . . . . fleshing out the light . . . .giving it substance . . . . solidifying our bond . . . .

I am warm, dancing, atoms. In, deeper . . . . out, further . . . . in, deeper . . . . out, _ache_ . . . . in, stretching me . . . . out, clenching, loss . . . .

I can't close our bond . . . . can't even mute it . . . . no way to push him back . . . . all of him . . . . inside me . . . . curled around my every cell . . . . my flesh . . . . tugging at it. . . . pulling it . . . . pushing it . . . . with his body . . . .

His eyes . . . . focus on his eyes . . . . try to listen . . . . understand . . . . feel . . . .

This is what I asked for, what I wanted.

Eyes.

In, deeper, smoother, fighting him less . . . . out, dragging, aching . . . . in, deeper, welcome . . . . out . . . . in . . . . oh jesus . . . . all the way in.

My back arches off the bed and his arms snake underneath me, pulling me to him as he props us up on his elbows, my head falling back.

There's still so much, I can't even begin to understand it all. But it fits. _All_ of him fits. I can't make sense of it, but all of him fits.

Eric . . . .

"All of me Sookie." He growls into my neck as he begins to thrust inside me in earnest. "Accept all of me . . . ."

"All of you Eric. I have all of you . . . ."

My cells, my molecules, me, they've all somehow expanded to encompass him. But it's secondary now, something for later . . . .

In . . . . out . . . .

I can feel my muscles grasping at him, trying to keep him buried inside me. I can feel the slick give in the skin over his hardness as he drives in and out of me regardless. His cool breath on my neck. The _ache_, oh god the _ache_. Its building, intensifying with heat, remorselessly winding every muscle in my body tighter. Pushing my shoulders down into his arms and my hips up into his. My pulse and our harsh breaths are hammering my ears, yet I can still hear our skin slipping together, feel it. His chest strafing my painfully swollen nipples, my wetness sucking at his length, his lips, my lips, mindlessly snatching at anything they can alight on as our need consumes us.

I never imagined it could be like this, feel like this.

In . . . . hot coiled muscles . . . . out . . . . deep cloying ache . . . in . . . . fingers digging into his shoulder . . . . out . . . . legs tightening around his waist . . . . in . . . . animal growl . . . . out . . . . teeth gripping the skin over his Adams apple . . . . in . . . . head falls back again . . . . out . . . . over and over and over . . . . until I can barely stand it . . . . the heat . . . . the painful ache . . . . the winch reeling my muscles tight . . .

"_Eric_." I plead. Oh _god_. "Help me . . . . I can't . . . ."

"I am yours Sookie." He growls as his hips quicken. "Only ever yours." He drags in a ragged breath, driving harder, faster, deeper, my hips off the bed. "This. This is only for you . . . . I am going to come Sookie, come inside you . . . ."

And I can't take my eyes off his, even though I know blindness is only moments away, I need him to anchor me. Because I have all of him and I need to give back . . . .

In . . . . out . . . . in . . . . out . . . . I feel _everything_ . . . . in . . . . my every molecule is _alive_ with it . . . . out . . . . _Eric_ . . . . in . . . . it's here . . . .

And _it_ races through me, igniting a spark in the Eric light as it passes, wrecking the winch, obliterating the ache, immolating my every cell and then jumping to his, ripping a raw scream from my throat and a primitive roar from his.

Blind. Coruscating light. Not exploding behind my eyes. Everywhere . . . .


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 52 Begin the Beguine**

**SPOV**

I wake to total darkness and several ground breaking realisations.

I am naked.

I had sex with Eric.

I am being crushed.

I had sex with Eric.

I am being crushed by a naked Eric.

Who I had sex with.

Initial panic gives way to a childish snicker.

And it was _amazing_.

And on sober reflection he's not crushing me, he's _cuddling_ me.

What the?

Instinctively I try to sit up. Unsuccessful I sink back down into the bed.

Right, not a small, skinny, Viking.

More mental snickering.

Definitely not _small _. . . .

Oh my god, am I _drunk_?

No. Maybe I'm just flooded with endorphins or something. Aren't orgasms supposed to release them?

There must be some reason why I'm not freaking out, because frankly I should be about due to be peeled off the ceiling by now . . . .

Alright. One. This is not my room, said ceiling is flat and smooth and mine has ornate swirls all over it. I have been transferred here, apparently in all my naked glory.

Two. I had sex with Eric. I enjoyed it. Snicker at the understatement. And apparently I don't remotely regret it. Nope, not one _tiny_ shred of remorse. Odd.

Three. Well over two hundred pounds of Viking is wrapped around me in a way clearly designed to prevent my escape while he is dead.

Four. He is dead. There is no other way to describe his lack of body heat, breathing and heartbeat even though I can feel the usual vague connection humming away in the background.

Five. De Castro wants to kill him, take his Kingdom, and me. And will be with us in an hour or so to further his unwelcome designs.

Six. When he leaves we get to deal with the King of the Fairies or whatever the hell he is. Niall.

Seven. Pam will drain me when she finds out what happened to Dress Number Three. Snicker, but what a way for it to go, if Eric were a female she'd probably be more understanding.

Eight. Almost everyone in the vicinity of the Palace is going to know at first sniff that I had sex with Eric. Even I can smell it and that's just latent vampire blood.

Nine. The fact that I smell of sex with Eric is something of a turn on.

Ten. Losing my virginity has apparently eradicated every last sensible brain cell from my body. Because I don't give a flying fig for any of the above.

I am ridiculously happy right now and I'm going to give in to the impulse to drift back to sleep with the memories of last night painting a smile on my face. Something will wipe it off soon enough, it always does . . . .

…..

When I wake again the bedside light is on and I can see the room properly.

I'm alone in the bed but I can hear the shower running and I can feel Eric in there. Our bond is muted again but he doesn't appear to be feeling anything that's going to freak me out. But the potential is there, like the air before a tree whipping storm.

This room is almost the total opposite to mine. Expensively furnished but in a simple style that screams 'guest room for less important people'. Nevertheless this is clearly Eric's room, he's everywhere in it, either by scent or neatly dispersed possessions. And it makes me feel bad in a way I can't define. Eric's like a guest in his own Palace, a reluctant one.

I stretch and yawn, marvelling at the pleasant ache in my body.

When I open my eyes again a fully dressed, suited, Eric is looming at the foot of the bed.

And I'm completely unprepared with no idea how I'm supposed to behave or what I'm supposed to say because, as usual, his face and our bond are giving absolutely nothing away.

"I brought you here because my room is safer during the day." He says.

"Okay."

I have questions. Bucket loads of them. Every single one of which I'm too afraid to ask.

"De Castro will be here soon." He continues.

A little knot of dread forms in my stomach as I nod my understanding.

"I would be intrigued to see the expression on his face if you attended the meeting with me." He smirks and I can feel his genuine amusement at the idea. "But it is a risk that I cannot justify."

"Um?"

"It is better that he does not know you are more than a human asset."

"Okay."

"You are welcome to 'listen in' from your office."

"Do you need me to?"

"No. I have survived for over a thousand years without you Sookie."

Oh. Ouch.

Did I wince? That would be bad . . . .

"Sookie, we need to talk, but I do not know if we will get the chance tonight . . . ."

I nod, focussing my attention on the dark green sheet draped over my body.

"I have ensured that Thalia, Pam and Herveaux will be with you at all times while de Castro is here. He will not be permitted anywhere near you."

Another nod. What's this sheet made of, it's as soft as silk but it clearly isn't.

"Sookie, look at me."

I sigh inwardly but don't deny his request.

His beauty is almost blinding if you let yourself see it. Stupid tailored suits.

"Did you not listen to a word I said last night?"

Oh yes, I remember everything, my inner teenager just hasn't had time to sneak into a corner and second guess any of it yet.

"De Castro is here." We both say together.

"I will not let him harm you." He assures me.

Oh Eric. That's not what I'm worried about . . . .

And, he's gone . . . .

This time I sigh out loud.

Fabulous. I guess I'm making the walk of shame in Eric's dark green sheet.

"Princess." Thalia hisses softly through the door. "Eric said you would need your things."

…..

I'm staying out of all their minds. I do not need to hear what they're thinking about last night, I'm not ready to deal with it until I've come to some conclusions of my own. And I don't know where to start. I want to believe that last night was important, that something's changed, but I just, can't . . . .

We settle into my office, Thalia, Pam and Alcide bickering good naturedly while Smith lays out a sumptuous feast on my desk. Six months ago how would I have felt about a liveried butler serving my friends and I French cuisine and bottled blood for breakfast?

We 'dine' and listen as Eric and Charles greet de Castro and his team in his office. All that false bon amie is almost enough to ruin your appetite.

The start of the meeting is as dull as dishwater and since my hearing isn't as good as the other's I play around in the heads of the attendees. It doesn't take me long to realise that one of Felipe's guys is effectively The Memory Man, his job is to faithfully record every word, silence and facial tic. Thrilled I settle into his otherwise blessedly empty head and pretend I'm in the room with them, it would be a complete success too if it wasn't for the occasional disconcerting urge to caress my man parts through the pocket of my suit pants. Men. Ick.

I don't really understand all of what's being said but I get the impression it's not the most exciting conversation I'll ever fail to grasp. I wonder if all vampires take time out to qualify as CPAs, it sure sounds like it. The others aren't impressed either. Pam is rolling her eyes and flipping through an interior decorating magazine, Thalia is holding a book but looks like she's slipped into down time and Alcide is calmly troughing his way through the leftovers.

Finally.

They've agreed something involving percentages and cash projections which seems to make them all happy and Smith appears to provide them with 'half time' refreshments.

Felipe sips his Royalty Blend appreciatively, looking completely at ease. Vampires, such charlatans . . . .

"So Eric." He begins, setting his heavy crystal goblet down. "Let us talk about more interesting things. Your delicious little telepath, as you already know I have an interest in acquiring her."

"And as you already know I am not inclined to sell." Eric responds indulgently, twirling his own goblet thoughtfully.

"Come now Northman." Felipe chuckles. "Everything has a price."

"Felipe, though her talent is limited only to humans I must admit I find her useful. It is not my way to part with something useful."

"I can understand that." Felipe muses. "But your state, through no fault of your own, is saddled with heavy debts. Surely a little ready cash would come in handy?"

"How much?" Eric enquires, raising an eyebrow.

"Fifty million."

I start choking and Thalia idly pats me on the back without looking up from her book.

"Forgive me Felipe." Eric drawls. "But that seems a little excessive for a _human_."

"I can see how you would think that." Felipe smirks. "But Las Vegas is my town, with her gift, no matter how limited, I could probably recoup that and more in one fiscal year."

Eric nods and even I can see how that would make sense, if I were in any way inclined to go along with something like that, which I'm not.

"She is also a beautiful woman with very appealing blood."

Eric nods again, his face impassive, but I can feel the possessive anger spike in him. It makes me smile, I should probably find time to look for those missing brain cells . . . .

"I have twice bonded with her." Eric reminds him. "Does that not present something of a problem?"

"Not if it does not to you." Felipe murmurs, watching Eric's reaction intently. There isn't one. "I assume your blood to be powerful due to your age but I am not overly bothered about bonding to her, though I have one in my retinue possibly old enough, there are other ways to control a human asset. Besides, I am not looking for a pet."

He smirks at Eric again and brushes an invisibly speck of lint off his ridiculous slacks.

"I have no problem sharing my 'feed and fucks' as you very well know."

Eric's eyelid ticks.

Not good. Well, good, but not with The Memory Man recording it for posterity. While I continue to listen I let a little part of my mind wander off to see if it can _edit_ that titbit out . . . .

"Felipe." Eric says after an infinitesimal pause. "I can certainly appreciate the attraction of Ms Stackhouse but I remain _extremely_ disinclined to sell."

"I know the cash would be useful Eric." Felipe murmurs. "And I am prepared to go higher. I do not understand your reluctance to sell. I am sure she is extremely satisfying in your bed but there are many more blood bags with vaginas in the sea."

"Princess." Thalia murmurs. "You are glowing and this is not a good thing right now. Trust Eric, let him deal with it."

"Yes, Sookie." Pam drawls. "Please rein that in, I have never owned a pair of sunglasses and you are hurting my eyes."

I glance down at my hand, it _is_ glowing, like it's about to shoot light out of it.

"Remember what I said Princess." Thalia urges me, her hand on my back again. "It can be dangerous for him to feel what you feel all the time."

She's right. Besides, I've heard worse. Focus on Eric, he's keeping his annoyance in check, so can you . . . .

The glow gradually recedes and I flit through Memory Man's mind to catch up on what I've missed.

Not much. Felipe is pressing his case and Eric is stonewalling.

"I must admit." Eric observes, draining the last of his goblet. "That your Emissary gave me the impression you had more to offer for Ms Stackhouse than financial gain."

"And what would you like Northman, beyond a substantial contribution toward your state's debts?" Felipe asks.

"I want for nothing Felipe." Eric chuckles. "I am not in the habit of denying myself."

"Your debts are quite hefty." Felipe points out, pleasantry forgone. "I required to understand the issues in detail before I agreed to make loans to the former Queen."

Eric's eyebrow shoots up.

"A Council of Monarchs could easily be called for in order to sort out the mess, should creditors become agitated . . . ." And you'd just love to agitate them wouldn't you, you nasty little . . . .

Eric laughs. Which really pisses Felipe off.

"Felipe." He chortles. "I am over eleven hundred years old. I am already negotiating the matter of Louisiana's debts, which are not quite as _hefty_ as you seem to believe."

"Northman, I think you may be underestimating the situation before you . . . ."

"Felipe." Eric sighs happily. "I think you may be underestimating _me_. I know you are a popular monarch with the AVL and wield a great deal of influence in the New World. But I am a distinctly Old World vampire. Are you sure that is a connection you wish to test?"

"Are you threatening me?" Felipe demands indignantly.

"Of course not." Eric responds with a benign smile. "I am a new monarch, I know my place."

Silence.

"Charles." Eric prompts.

"Your Majesty?" He responds, speeding to his side.

"Louisiana's current debt to Nevada is twenty eight million dollars, is it not?"

"And some cents, Majesty."

"I thought so." Eric accedes. "Please be so kind as to make an immediate transfer of that amount to Nevada's accounts, I am sure one of his people can give you the details."

"Of course." Charles, responds, bowing and leaving the room.

"Thank you." Felipe's grudging thanks barely covers his annoyance.

"It is nothing." Eric responds dismissively, fighting back a smirk. "Can I help you with anything else?"

Apparently not.

Done with editing Memory Man's mind I withdraw to let Eric and Charles 'platitude' Felipe and his retinue from the building in peace.

Pam is almost howling with laughter, even Thalia is amused.

"What?" I eventually have to ask.

"Eric is as rich as Croesus." Thalia chuckles. "Even without what he would have inherited from Godric."

"It is true." Pam nods. "Louisiana's debts are pocket change to him, I would be surprised if he hadn't paid most of them off already. De Castro hasn't done his homework very well."

"But he's really pissed off now." I protest, thinking about his last mental image of Eric hanging before him in chains, broken and bleeding.

"Princess." Thalia sighs. "Eric's threat was not an idle one. He has many contacts in the Old World and is owed many favours. Nevada will have to think very carefully before making his next move."

"Precisely, doesn't that just make him more dangerous?"

She opens her mouth to respond but the door opens and Eric sweeps in, eyes glittering with intent.

"Leave us." He commands.

And they do, bumping through the doorway together in their haste, more comfortable together than I have ever seen them.

I just make it out of my chair before he's crossed the room, two long strides, his hands cupping my face as his mouth crashes down over mine, fingers in my hair, thumbs brushing my jaw. His lips move lazily but passionately against me. There is so much we should be talking about right now but he's stolen my words again, my hands splay out on his shirt, feeling his chest move beneath it. My lips part and his tongue slips between them, agitating my molecules, stirring my soul, warming me from the inside out.

And I _realise_, we _are_ talking.

Felipe has gone and Niall is coming. There might not be time for awkward words and dancing round our issues, so we're coming together the only way we currently know how.

Our bond opens gradually this time, allowing us to bleed into each other in a way we've never been able to before, for me to let him know that I need him, for him to show me his fierce desire for me to stay . . . .

Our kiss deepens in response, I can't be close enough to him, feel enough of him, even though our bodies moving together are generating enough heat for sweat to trickle between my breasts. Stiflingly hot, can't breathe, need oxygen . . . .

Gasping I let my head fall back, staring up at the stars twinkling in the velvet night sky, trembling as he tastes my exposed throat with his tongue.

"Eric." Wow. I sound so calm. "Where are we?"

Eric looks up, studying the sky with practised eyes, then back down at me, cradled in his arms.

"Fiji."


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 53 Everything Starts With Apples**

**SPOV**

"I'm not going to argue with you." I mutter as he sets me carefully on my feet. "But how did we get from _your _Palace to the South Pacific?"

"Magic. Can you not smell it?"

I shake my head, no, I can smell Eric, the sea and a heady concoction of flowers.

After a moment he shrugs, bending down.

"What are you doing?"

"I am fairly certain your Great Grandfather has brought us here." He answers, removing his shoes and socks and rolling up his pant legs. "And since there is not a lot I can do about it, and I do not often get the chance, I am going to enjoy the beach."

"You're very calm about this."

"It may not seem like it." He chuckles, rolling up his shirt sleeves. "But since I met you my stores of fatalistic acceptance have become full to overflowing."

"You're right." I respond archly, kicking off my professional heels and shrugging out of my jacket. "It doesn't seem like it."

"Left or right?" He asks, offering me his hand and indicating the moonlit beach curving away from us in both directions.

**NPOV**

Fairies. Nosey malcontents. They know perfectly well why the portals between realms are closed but they cannot let things go. No, word has spread that some of us have been leaving Faerun and now they all want to do it. Much time has passed and I am considering whether or not to remove some of the restrictions but I do wish they would consider history when pushing me. I am an extremely stubborn man. They seemed to want time to formulate their next argument and since they had already made me late to meet my little ray I was happy to oblige them. I cannot leave them long however, they will become irritable and it is usually all downhill from there.

I pop onto the beach behind them, watching for a moment as the Viking points to the sky and explains the basics of navigation by the sun, moon and stars. Of course they know I'm here and turn toward me, not quite as displeased to see me as they were last night, but not exactly wreathed in welcoming smiles either. Ah well . . . .

"I am sorry I am late." I begin hastily, mindful of my wife's constant admonishments that politeness would make me seem like a normal person and not the social inadequate I actually am. "My meeting overran. In fact I must return to it fairly swiftly lest a fight break out."

My little ray looks confused.

"You wanted to see us. You said you would come to us." She reminds me.

"Yes. Well considering what we need to accomplish I thought we would better away from prying eyes. Besides, Fiji is a beautiful location, I thought you might enjoy it."

"I might have if I'd had a chance to change out of this suit." She says, gesturing to her heat crumpled appearance.

Ah. Aga said that Fiji would be perfect, she did not say anything about providing a bathing suit. I could, of course, provide one now but that would be awkward, I think . . . .

"You said we have more to discuss?" The Viking interrupts my wandering thoughts.

"Yes." I nod, focussing, time is short. Time is always short. "We do. Physics."

"Physics?" My little ray clarifies.

"Yes. More specifically the branch of physics that is Magic."

"Um?" She glances at the Viking who shrugs, equally perplexed and I sigh.

There is no easy way to explain this to the uninitiated, or in fact, the initiated, and so I have discovered over the years that getting right into and saving the whole 'Laws of Physics' lecture for later is the best way to go. Besides humans consume themselves with Quantum Mechanics and God Particles, the concept of real Magic is never going to occur to them. Which is probably just as well, there are a lot more of them than there are any of us . . . .

"You have Magic. There is much you need to know about it but tonight I would just like to start with the basics."

"Basics?"

"Apples." I confirm.

"Gravity?" She asks carefully.

"Not quite. I taught my children with apples, it was reasonably successful so I will use it with you, if you have no objections?"

"Niall." She sighs heavily. "How can I object when I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Then just work with me Great Granddaughter, we have to start somewhere and apples are as good a place as any."

"I don't see what any of this has to do with me . . . ." She mutters.

"You will." I promise. "So. Apples. There are several ways to 'magic' an apple. First and easiest. Hold out your hand."

She extends it warily, her vampire moving to stand behind her.

"It is always simpler to use the person's mind against them, this is a Magic whose mechanics you are already familiar with, you can probably already do most of this.

So, find an object that resembles an apple in size and shape, it does not have to be exact.

Then, move it to where it needs to go."

I pop the rock I spotted down the beach into her outstretched palm and she flinches but does not drop it.

"The moving part you will need to learn.

Then, enter the minds of anyone you want to see the apple and make them see it, smell it, and if necessary, feel it."

Her eyes widen in surprise as the wave worn rock morphs into an apple.

"However." I caution as she lifts it to her face to sniff it. "It is still a rock. If you bite into it you will probably break your teeth."

She drops it, it hits the sand at her feet with a soft thud, a small rock again as I remove the Magic from their minds.

"The second method is also relatively straightforward, once you can move things. For this you simply summon the object to where you want it to go. Remember physics, you cannot create something out of nothing. You will need to know _exactly_ where the object is that you want. Hold out your hand again."

Smiling slightly she complies.

"Now then. There was an apple on my breakfast platter his morning, I put it to one side for later, so I know exactly where it is."

I summon it into her palm.

"And now it is here."

Once again she lifts it closer to her face to sniff it.

"This is a real apple, you could eat it, but I would rather you did not, I am saving it for supper."

She giggles as I pop it back to my chambers.

"The third method is the hardest."

I pop the rock back into her still open palm.

"With Magic you can change the rock into an apple. A real one that can be eaten without endangering your teeth. This method requires the most Magic and knowledge of both the atomic pattern of the rock and the atomic pattern of the apple you wish to create."

She blinks at me.

"If you know." I continue, watching her watch her palm. "Then you can simply use your Magic to change it."

Voila! Perfect apple.

"How?" The Viking asks.

"Everything is made out of the same building blocks, molecules, atoms." Ah science, got to love a bit of science. "If you possess Magic and you know the patterns you can simply re-arrange them. You will notice this is a little bigger than an apple would normally be, that is because the rock contains more matter than is required to create an apple. You can also learn to pare away the matter you do not need, but that is considerably more advanced."

"Fascinating." The Viking murmurs, smiling at me over Sookie's shoulder.

"Brilliant." She huffs. "I didn't even finish High School, how am I going to be able to do that?"

"When was the last time you forgot something?" I ask her with a smile.

"I can't remember." She admits and the Viking chuckles, resting one of his hands on her hip.

"Think back to the night your vampire rescued you from Bill."

She shudders but does as I ask.

"Have you forgotten anything?"

"No. Well, I guess I have but it doesn't feel like it."

"Can you remember the feel of the air as Eric's sword cut through Bill's neck? Can you remember the exact formation of the droplets of blood as they hung in the air?"

"Ew." She grumbles. "Yes."

"Perfect recall." I smirk. "A human would not notice those details, let alone be able to remember them."

"You've lost me." She sighs.

"I am not a particle physicist." I point out. "I am just old, with a terribly good memory. Here . . . ."

I transfer the atomic pattern of a perfectly ripe Braeburn apple into her mind, along with the pattern for the paperweight I have noticed on the Viking's silly desk.

"Now you can practise."

"When did you 'learn' the atomic pattern of Eric's paperweight?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Magic and years of said practise."

"How many years?"

"In your terms? About five and a half thousand."

She closes her eyes for a moment and shakes her head as if to clear it.

"I need to sit down." She whispers when she opens them again.

Showing off I pop one of the ornate chairs from Eric's office onto the beach, smiling as Eric settles her into it.

His cell rings.

"Eric." His child snarls. "First you and Sookie disappear, which was bad enough, then, an overbearing Fairy 'popped' in to tell us where you'd gone and why. And _now_ one of the pesky little critters has 'popped' away the chair I was sitting on. I am of a mind to sink my fangs into the culprit."

"Please tell your child I am sorry." I chuckle. "And inform her that Ortel is not overbearing, merely used to being obeyed."

"Pam. Not now." The Viking hisses.

"Fine." She snaps. "Is everything okay?"

"All is well, we will be home soon."

"Humph."

Smiling he stows his cell back in his pocket.

Sookie's own smile is short lived, such a serious little ray tonight.

"This is all very well." She sighs. "But I don't know how to do any of this stuff, I'm not even a proper fairy."

"Yes." I tell her firmly. "You are. The blood that runs in your veins is immaterial. You possess the essential spark and that makes you Fae. There is no avoiding it any longer."

She narrows her eyes at me again.

"Did you or did you not glow this evening?"

"I may have." She huffs.

"When?" Eric demands. "What happened? Why? Were you hurt, in danger?"

She reaches out to wrap her fingers with his, calming him immediately.

"It was nothing." She assures him, scowling at me. "Felipe was making me angry, I didn't even notice until Thalia pointed it out. It didn't hurt and I managed to channel some of your 'fatalistic acceptance' until it went away."

"Why did you not tell me?" He growls.

"I don't believe you gave me the opportunity." She murmurs, looking up at him through her eyelashes, effectively skewering him to the spot.

I can almost see the anger and worry flush out of him and evaporate into the air around us. It reminds me so much of how Eildith used to twist me around her little finger, the vixen, that I sigh out loud, aware that a far from regal smile is threatening to split my face in two. Lucky, lucky, Viking.

Alright, lovers can be very self-absorbed and this moment is dragging on, I still have irritated Fairies waiting for me at my Palace.

"Ahem."

Now it's the Viking's turn to scowl at me while my little ray blushes and mutters an apology.

"So." I begin. "Glowing. Fairies glow for any number of reasons. Some of which you will frankly, ahem, just have to work out for yourselves. However, it is a direct manifestation of your Magic, your spark, one of the purest forms of energy in the universe, and it is most easily brought on by heightened emotion, anger or fear for example.

Once it begins to manifest it can be a little wild and out of control, as you can imagine if triggered by emotions. It is not difficult to learn to control it, nor to direct it to your will, it just requires conscious effort."

"But . . . ."

"Is there a light inside you?"

"Um." She looks embarrassed.

I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, Eric, our bond . . . ."

"Ah. That makes sense. Fairies and vampire do not blood bond as a rule, the results can be a little unpredictable."

"Can we conduct this conversation in a language the vampire can understand?" The Viking asks with another scowl.

She sighs and squeezes his hand.

"When we exchanged blood the first time, after I went to sleep, it felt like you were creeping through me, like your blood was seeping into every cell. I was terrified but I couldn't wake up." She swallows and the Viking looks horrified. "There was a bright light and I don't remember anything else, in the morning it was gone. But when you woke up it ripped through me again and I passed out."

"You did not tell me all of this." He objects.

"No? Really?" She snarks. "We weren't exactly on friendly terms Eric and if you remember I thought you knew it would happen and just hadn't bothered to tell me."

"If we might continue?" I suggest, waiting makes irritable Fairies foolish and I have no desire to whip my sword out when I get home. I am supposed to look after my people, not behead them in a fit of pique because these two have trouble communicating.

"Sorry. Um. So afterwards there was always this light inside me, Eric. And then, when we bonded the second time." She shoots him a glare and he raises an unapologetic eyebrow. "It changed, it's sort of right through me, ingrained in every cell."

"Anything similar?" I ask the Viking.

"No light. And though I am aware of her all the time I believe the only difference to a normal blood bond is that she can open, close or mute it at will."

"And nothing has changed, recently?"

He shakes his head. The liar.

"Anyway. I think the light is your essential spark Sookie, the Viking's blood magic must have ignited it when you bonded. They may have even melded though I have no idea what the result would be, you can read and manipulate vampire minds now, yes?"

She would have learnt to do that eventually anyway but his blood may have aided the process.

She nods. "All except Eric."

"You have heard me though." He points out. "Even before we bonded."

"Snatches." She confirms. "And not very often."

I do not think that is relevant, I think that was more a case of him being her soul stalker, no one can hide from the inevitable forever, not even her, and _how_ she has tried . . . .

"Hm. I think you could hear him if you wanted to. It is probably just a mental shield you are not aware of erecting. A defence mechanism."

Ah. I can see by the stricken look on her face that she understands my thinking and I sigh again. Very well. If she is not ready to find out then I will not force the issue. I may poke at it a little though, if the opportunity presents itself . . . .

"Have you ever tried to do anything with the light?" I ask instead.

"Not really, just to get Eric's attention."

He grimaces and she laughs.

"I imagine that was highly effective?" I ask him, hiding my smile.

"_Extremely_." He huffs, remembering.

"Is it there now?" I ask her.

"Yes."

"Alright. Let us try to do something with it. Northman, I apologise, if her spark is entwined with your blood magic you may be affected by this."

He nods in understanding

"No." Sookie objects.

"He will be quite safe." I assure her. "I will intercede before any harm can befall him."

"I don't want magic anyway." She says, eyeing me with distaste.

"You already have it." I point out. "You should learn to control it lest you inadvertently flash fry someone important to you."

"Flash fry?" She squeaks.

"Fairies like to dismember vampire with their swords." The Viking informs her seriously. "But I have seen many simply go up like roman candles."

"Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea." She intones, bowing her head.

"Quite." I add. "I am sorry Sookie. You are what you are."

"It won't hurt Eric?"

"No."

"You sound confident, I thought you said you didn't really understand what affect our bond might have?"

"I do not fully. But I understand the mechanics of both the essential spark and blood magic, how do you think I was able to make Newlin vampire? We can probably separate the two if they are melded but I will not know until you attempt to use your spark"

"Sookie." The Viking's voice is quiet but compelling and she transfers her full attention to him. "Your magic can protect you when I cannot. I would prefer that you learn to use it. I trust your Great Grandfather on this."

"You do." It's a statement not a question, they are more attuned to each other tonight.

"Alright." She returns her attention to me. "But if he's hurt you're the first person I'm going to flash fry."

I do not doubt her. Wielding Magic is little more than an act of will for Fairy and her _will _is rolling off her in waves.

"Should I stand up or something?"

"You may as well."

She stands and reluctantly releases the Viking's hand, moving a few feet away from him, as if that would protect him. My poor little ray has no idea what she's capable of.

"Relax." I suggest.

She snorts.

"Focus on the light."

She nods.

"Can you tell your light from Eric's?"

"No, it's all him."

"Are you sure?" I prompt. "Now that you know you have your own light inside you? Look a little deeper . . . ."

"Oh." She says softly and I give her a few moments to explore what she's found.

"Explain it to me." I urge, quietly pleased that opportunity often presents itself quickly to the prepared . . . .

"Um. Well, it always felt to me like his light was sticking to my cells, like cotton candy, but it isn't really. Mine's there, underneath it, kind of . . . . oh . . . . holding it in place."

"Can you let him go?" I ask, ignoring both their reactions to my question.

"N-no."

"Actually try Sookie." I chuckle, guessing what will happen.

"I don't . . . ."

"He cannot hear us Sookie." I assure her. "He thinks we are just standing here in silence, staring at each other."

"I don't want to let him go." She whispers, false understanding blooming. "I didn't realise I was holding onto him but now I do I'm frightened to let go, I'll lose him, whatever of him I have . . . ."

"_Try_." I insist, cruel to be kind. "Do you _want_ to hold onto something that does not belong to you?"

"No." Her voice is choked.

"Then try."

She hesitates, staring at me, torn, suddenly convinced that she, her unknown nature, is the reason he is here with her. So little confidence, if she is waiting for him to draw her a picture she is going to be, well, waiting a long time. He and I are _very_ similar.

"You know you have to try Sookie." My voice is gentler now, but no less firm.

I feel a little guilty as her spirits pool in the sand beneath her feet. But my heart also swells with pride as she screws her eyes shut and tries, very hard, to do what she considers the right thing.

"It is not working is it?" I confirm for her.

"No."

"Why not?"

She does not answer. Stars! Such a refusal to see, a soul's habits are very hard to break.

"Why not?" I press.

"He won't let go."

There, that was not so hard, was it?

"That is your bond Sookie. It is not something that one of you has done to the other and it is no longer a blood bond. There is much more I should explain but we do not have time tonight. Just trust that the Magic binding you has been mutually forged."

She wants to argue with me, but when her eyes open they automatically fasten on her vampire and, after a pause, she turns back to me with a brief nod.

"Alright." I continue, rubbing my hands together briskly and releasing him to re-join reality. "Now we know which bit is him and which bit is you, shall we fry something?"


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 54 Flash, Bang, Wallop**

**SPOV**

Flash frying things came much easier than I suspect the apple stuff is going to. I feel guilty about marring the beauty of Fiji's beaches but the small child in me revelled in the ability to shoot fiery light out of my palms. I mean, really, who gets to do that stuff in real life?

That wasn't all the light could do. I managed to create my own pyrotechnic display, make glass out of sand and finally, after many false starts, push things with it without turning them to slag. Apparently this is the bare bones of 'popping' things from one place to another, there was talk about Newtons, which Eric seemed to understand, and I filed under 'didn't finish High School' to worry about later.

All in all I regressed back further than my inner teenager, revelling in the fact it felt so natural, so easy. I think Eric and Niall got caught up in my excitement too. Bursts of otherworldly light and laughter will probably be my abiding memory of this night, despite the ramifications.

I've been slowly coming to terms with not being human. The torched palm trees on Fiji and the white glow reflected on Eric's perfect face, they're the final proof that I'm not.

I didn't even realise I was getting tired until Niall leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Lesson number two my child. No one can defy the laws of physics, energy must be re-charged. Sleep. Eat well. Do things that make you happy. Practise with the apple. I will see you again soon."

**EPOV**

I manage to catch her before she crumples to the sand.

"Was that wise?" I snap at him.

"She is tired, she needs to rest, I was just helping. You caught her did you not?" He shrugs. "Stars forbid she be mortally injured by colliding unexpectedly with wet sand."

There is little point pretending or posturing with him so I allow myself to scowl at him. Again.

"Take her home." He chuckles. "You and I will have our opportunity to talk and I have pressing matters to attend to. If you think vampires are difficult to rule . . . ."

And just like that we are in my room.

Fatalistic acceptance. I am going to have to find something constructive to do with the aggressive residue it leaves behind.

Sookie stirs as I lay her on the bed.

"Would you like me to undress you?" I whisper in her ear.

"M-kay."

Hm. It is not the definite 'no' I received last time I asked the question.

Fortunately for her I am not in the habit of forcing my, albeit pleasurable attention, on semi-comatose fairies.

Nevertheless I allow my poor throbbing fangs to run down as I gently remove the clothes from her glistening body. The heat and exertions of Fiji have bathed her in a far more human glow and though I long to lick every bead of moisture from her skin I restrain myself to tasting her neck and shoulders _after_ I have draped the sheets carefully around her.

"Mm, good." She murmurs, wriggling down into the bed.

"It certainly would be." I assure her but she's already slipped back into a deep sleep.

I sigh, resting my forehead on the edge of the bed, breathing in her scent and mine from the fabric.

Complicated. This is all so complicated.

I meant what I said last night. I am done and I am hers. I just do not know what that means for either of us.

There is so much about our situation I cannot predict and will probably not be able to control, only so much of which my normally infallible mind can latch onto.

I sit back on my haunches, running my hand through my hair as I watch her breathe.

Like Niall I do not believe her true identity can be concealed forever, already Pam, Thalia and Charles are aware and though I would trust them with my life, and hers, I cannot guarantee that they will never be placed in a position to reveal what they know. Then there is the dog. His loyalty to her is strong but he is only a were, the weakest link currently in a chain that I fear will only grow and grow. I could kill him. Tactically that is the best course of action. But it would not solve the problem, merely truncate it temporarily, eventually a new weak link would grow in his place.

There is another reason why that is not the answer. Sookie. She would not understand my logic. No, that does not do her justice, she would. But she would not deem her safety to be more important than his life, she would gladly, if naively, trust him with it. Am I going to have to adapt my approach to risk management?

She would, for all her emerging powers, be safer in Faery.

The Fae are not invulnerable, there are very good reasons why they hate vampire and why her Great Grandfather sealed the portals and removed them from our realm. For all the damage they inflicted on us and their other enemies their numbers were depleted and they do not reproduce as quickly as we do.

There is still the issue of Rhodes and the aftermath to deal with. The Council of Monarchs convened have not yet called for an accounting, but they will and I have yet to formulate an explanation for my apparent failure to bring the culprits to justice.

I cannot tell the truth. Sookie is Fae. Her continued existence would not be tolerated. Or worse.

Fuck.

I and mine would die with her.

And what of the Prince? He has already shown his preference to protect her and he is powerful, but he is not omnipotent and has other obligations, as do I, so many variables . . . .

I said we would work things out together and she needs to know these things, weigh her options, the implications, make an informed choice.

If she leaves so be it, for all the upheaval she has caused she is but a moment in my timeline.

Squatting here, staring at her while she sleeps will accomplish nothing. I need to speak to the others and, if I work for a few hours, I should be able to keep tomorrow night free.

…..

The others are waiting in my office.

"Sookie?" Charles asks.

"Is sleeping." I inform him, scowling at the familiarity as I sink into the chair behind my desk.

They are watching me expectantly.

"You all know what she is?"

Four sober nods.

"Then you are aware that this is a secret that can never be revealed?"

Another round of nods.

"Good."

Silence. Do they really understand just what a dangerous secret I am asking them to keep?

"Master." Thalia says quietly. "She is yours. We all know this. We will do whatever you ask of us."

"I should not ask anything of you in this regard." I snap.

"We know that too Your Majesty." Charles responds. "But you must know that we have discussed it and your secret is safe with us."

My eyes flick to my child.

"Eric." She drawls. "She has made life considerably less boring already and you know how I abhor boredom."

"You will not be bored." I remind her. "You have an Area to run."

"Yes Master and unless you require my continued presence I must return to it tomorrow at first dark."

"We will talk before you leave."

"Of course." She murmurs, bowing her head briefly.

"Thalia, I ask that you remain here, there are matters we must discuss."

"Master." She responds, dipping her own head.

"Herveaux, you will remain? I will not have time for you tomorrow night but we too have much to discuss."

"I will Your Majesty. Vladimir has already allocated me accommodation."

"Very well." I nod. "You may leave."

They all rise and I call Charles back, waiting for the door to close before I speak.

"I need a clear night tomorrow. Report."

"Your Majesty." He folds himself back into his chair and does just that.

…..

With dawn approaching I take my laptop back to my room so that I can work longer. There was surprisingly little to attend to, Charles is already an excellent Second and I am able to strip down and settle on the bed beside Sookie as I read the reports from my myriad spies and contacts.

The sun has already risen by the time I am done and I can feel it tugging me into death.

Carefully I set the laptop on the floor and turn out the lights, laying back.

There is something else tugging at me and instinctively I roll sideways, wrapping my arms and legs around it, drawing it tightly into me, where it belongs . . . .

**SPOV **

Awareness seeps back gradually, I can't ever remember having this much trouble waking up, or the sheets ever feeling quite so heavy.

Groaning I finally make it all the way back to reality.

I'm in Eric's bed again but despite the strength of his scent he isn't here.

He is here in the Palace though, I can feel him, pensive and a little sad.

Feeling like a voyeur I sift through the minds until I find the one that's focussed on him.

Pam, she's heading back to Shreveport, waving goodbye to him as she climbs into the car. Watching him as she turns through the gates.

And then I feel guilty for intruding, pulling back, dragging my shields up behind me but still scouting for trouble before the drawbridge is all the way closed. I learnt my lesson in Rhodes.

What do I do now?

Last night was easy, ish, there was Felipe and then Niall to get through. Now there's nothing . . . .

Jeez.

Still feeling woolly and half asleep I get up and stagger into Eric's bathroom, I need a shower, I can feel the salt of last night's sweat clinging to me like a crust.

The hot water soothes my aching muscles, pounding down on my head, waking me up but tangling my hair into knots I can't work out without shampoo. Ugh. There's nothing in the shower stall and I step out to investigate the counter.

Aha.

Looking up I glance in the mirror and gasp.

Eric is stood in the doorway, clad in jeans and a black wife beater. His eyes are black too. And his fangs are down, glistening in the recessed lighting.

I watch, mesmerised, as he crosses the space between us, reaching around me to take the shampoo bottle from my hand and set it back on the counter.

Even though I see them move in the mirror I still jump as his hands come to rest on my shoulders, fingers curling over them, thumbs pressing into the muscles at the base of my neck.

"You are tense." He observes quietly.

Understatement of the century. I don't know how to do, _this_ . . . . any of it . . . . I missed the ceiling last night but it's got my name on it right now . . . .

I should be freaking out about my ability to incinerate innocent palm trees with nothing more than an act of will. I should be freaking out because I'm stood here, naked, in front of a man who can smell and feel how much I want him. I should be freaking out over my hair, I can feel the water evaporating and the knots tightening . . . .

But there's only Eric, his hands on my body and his eyes in the mirror, those eyes haven't left mine though I can feel the skin all over my body prickle as if they're raking over it. Locked. He hasn't closed the door behind him but we're locked in place, steam billowing around us from the shower, condensation forming on the mirror, on his cool skin. Locked in place by each other. Holding on for grim death even if neither us knows why. Magic, Niall said I should trust the magic holding us together, but I can't. It speaks of coercion, cosmic forces, a lack of free will and that's something I've always been afraid of.

I can't trust that, I'd be even crazier than Bon Temps assumes if I did. But I can trust Eric, and myself. I can trust the look in our eyes and what I can feel in our bond. I probably shouldn't but Gran used to say that nothing good in life came without risks. Somehow I don't think she was talking about falling in love with your 'natural enemy' but she took up with a fairy, maybe she knew more than I've been giving her credit for.

"Sookie . . . ."

I whip round, fastening my hands on his biceps. "Eric . . . ."

"We need to talk." He groans, closing the space between us until I can feel the rough fabric of his clothes pressed against me.

Me looking up, him looking down.

"Please Eric, not words, not now."

He raises an eyebrow and I stretch up on my toes, pulling on his arms for leverage, attempting to press my lips to his. He resists for a moment and then lowers his head, opening his mouth over mine, groaning again as my tongue curls round one of his fangs before delving fully into his mouth. His arms close around my back, lifting me easily, and I climb him like a monkey, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

When I can no longer breathe he tilts his head back, screwing up his face and retracting his fangs.

My teeth fasten on the corded tendons of his neck, biting down, and he growls, vibrating our bodies.

"All of me?" He demands as I lick and kiss the spot I violated.

"All of you . . . ."

The rushing air chills my skin for a moment before my back hits the bed and his body presses me further into it. His hips roll into me and I moan, even though the denim of his jeans and the buttons are almost painful. My hands release his arms and tangle in the material of his shirt tugging at it desperately, somehow, with his help, I manage to get it over his head and fling it away. I already feel better for having his skin against mine, sliding, as he continues to grind into me.

My hands drop down to push fruitlessly at the jeans on his hips and a part of me marvels at his ability to kiss me so passionately and thoroughly while he reaches down and disposes of them in one quick easy movement, lord knows they should have got stuck on his boots . . . .

I arch my back and scream silently into his mouth as the next roll of his hips plunges him deeply inside me. Oh god . . . . without breaking the desperation of our kiss he hooks his arms under my legs . . . . forcing them to unlock, pushing them up until my calves are resting just under his shoulder blades . . . . I want . . . . I need . . . . he withdraws, pulling nearly all the way out of me, wrenching his mouth from mine . . . . and suddenly . . . .I _ache_ . . . . looking up into his eyes in confusion . . . .

They're burning and my body burns as he pushes slowly back inside until we are flush together. Holding us there, locked. And I still ache . . . .

"You should be afraid of how much I want you." He growls, ghosting his lips over mine.

"I'm not." I murmur, ghosting them back. "All of you, show me . . . ."

His mouth crashes into mine again and I'm gone, every thought chased from my head by sensation, emotion, _him_.

Hard, fast, deep, blurry. Aching, hot, desperate. Together. In everything . . . . heartbeat . . . . breathing . . . . thrusting bodies . . . . bond . . . . letting go . . . . tightening . . . . releasing . . . . screaming . . . . roaring . . . . glowing . . . .

Black.


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 55 The One in the Middle**

**SPOV**

Eric's nose is rubbing lightly and randomly all over my face, his ragged breath cool on my feverish skin, his body moving languidly against and inside mine.

Oh god, if this isn't real . . . .

My eyes flutter open, it's real, if a little 'soft' focus.

Is it always like this? I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone thinking about this, this complete feeling of . . . . I feel . . . . but that's ridiculous . . . .

My long sigh of total contentment morphs into a vaguely embarrassing moan which draws my legs back up around him automatically.

He's still, I thought, no he's definitely . . . .

I can feel the fading warmth on my skin return to heat even as my body, inside and out, clenches around him.

"_Sookie_ . . . ." He groans, rolling into me a little harder and dropping his lips to suck on the skin just below my ear.

"_Mmm_ . . . . _ungh_ . . . ." My mind can't form a coherent thought but my body arches up into his as best it's able.

He continues to undulate his hips into my automatically responsive ones even as he murmurs into my neck.

"We need to talk."

I know that's supposed to be a dash of cold water, intellectually it _is_ a dash of cold water, even though I can feel him in the bond. But a dash isn't going to put this fire out, it's going to evaporate before it even makes contact.

"_Ache_." I moan, my lips roving over the hair on the crown of his head, as my fingers tighten in the muscles of his back. "Eric, I _ache_ . . . ."

Without hesitation his mouth and body crash into mine, once again chasing away everything but himself . . . .

**EPOV**

I must admit that a breathless, boneless Sookie sprawled across my chest and caged in my arms, the white glow fading from her flushed skin, is likely to become one of my favourite things. Along with the slight burn receding from my muscles and the last echoes of the tremble in my thighs. There are no complex thoughts or feelings consuming me and I am simply relaxed in the moment.

Like everything else about us this is so much more than just sex, though we have barely begun to explore and learn each other we have already surpassed anything I have experienced before. And frankly, I have a lot of experience, though I suspect I could waste days considering and never finding a comparison.

Things are changing between us, and not just in the nature of our bond, yet though it disturbs me I cannot summon the will to fight it.

Fatalistic acceptance.

I am headstrong, proud and unemotional but that does not mean I have to be a fool.

She may be only a moment on my timeline but I can admit that I am not ready for that moment to end. I will, in truth, be _disappointed_ when it does.

Perhaps _I_ should be the one to be afraid of how much I want her.

Her scent, her skin, her softly muscled body, her sounds, her everything, are more than I have ever experienced. She _is_ the most beautiful woman that I have ever laid eyes on it is true, yet there is something more . . . .

She stirs, wrenching me from my contemplations, pressing her lips against my throat.

"I need to do something with my hair." She mutters in a soft rasp, lifting one of her hands from the bed and fluttering ineffectually at it.

"You have sex hair." I chuckle.

I can feel the blush on her cheeks against my skin even though I cannot see it and her groan vibrates through my chest.

I almost groan in response but we really do need to talk and ignoring her wordless protests I ease her gently off me, rolling us onto our sides, facing each other. For a moment we are captured by each other's eyes and then she blushes, dropping hers to the sheet beneath us.

I sigh internally, it is so easy to forget that she is not at all that I thought she was, how young and innocent she really is.

"We need to talk."

She nods, pulling at the sheet until I help her release it and bring it up over our bodies. The sudden distance is pleasing neither of us and instinctively I gather her into me, feeling her begin to relax as she curls herself into my chest, using my arm as a pillow.

"Much has happened." I point out, garnering another nod. "But I stand by what I said in your doorway, we should work out what to do about it together."

"You still want to do that?"

"Yes."

The firmness of my answer seems to calm her further and after a moment she relaxes completely.

"It is dangerous for you to remain in this realm, you understand a little of that already, but perhaps not the reaction of other Vampire to your true nature."

She shudders.

"Your existence, certainly your freedom, will not be tolerated. Vampire, knowledgeable or not, tend to believe many rumours about the Fae. For your deadliness alone many would demand your death. Others would covet what they believe you would be able to give them. The intoxication of your blood, to those who have tasted fairy it would be like heroin to an addict. Many would believe that your blood would also grant them the ability to walk in the sun, father biological children, make them immune to the true death in any form, grant them powers beyond their wildest dreams. These are elements of the communal stupidity that has tempted Vampire to engage the Fae in the past.

If your true nature becomes known . . . ."

"Wouldn't Niall's existence deter them?"

"That is a sensible question. And the answer is some, possibly the older among us. But Sookie, you need to be aware that something bad could happen to you before even he would be able to react."

"And I can't protect myself?" She asks in a small voice.

"Yes you can and the more you learn the better you will be able to do so. But Sookie, even you will not be invulnerable, Vampire have been killing fairies for thousands of years, your Great Grandfather will probably explain this to you in more detail."

She opens her mouth to object but closes it again, forcing me to marvel at how well I know her.

"Palm trees and people are entirely different things. Could you do that Sookie?"

"I don't know." She admits quietly and completely truthfully.

Wanting to soothe her I begin circling my thumb on the back of her shoulder, so soft, so smooth, the movement releases the scent from her pores into the air and I inhale deeply.

"Is any of that true?" She asks after a while.

"I have little experience of the Fae, except in battle. But apart from the temporary intoxication Godric always led me to believe that none of the rest was true and I have no reason to disbelieve him. You certainly have not bestowed any of those 'gifts' on me."

"Do I make you intoxicated?"

"Not with your blood."

"I don't know how to take that."

"And I am not sure I am able to explain it." I sigh. "But I have certainly not been myself since I met you."

I am tempted to hold my breath, which has, naturally, synchronised with hers again, waiting for her to press home her advantage but she does not. No matter how well I come to know her I continue to underestimate her actual lack of guile.

"If you get caught, um, with a fairy, does that make trouble for you too?"

And I forget that her beauty is inside and out.

"Yes."

She blows out a breath and I almost feel her eyes roll.

"How much trouble Eric?"

"The same trouble as you."

"I'm not worth it."

"You are an amazing woman."

"You said that once before." She murmurs.

"Twice actually."

Silence.

Do not speak, do not give her any more power . . . .

"I have meant almost every word I have ever said to you Sookie. Do you remember them all?"

"I remember . . . ."

"Do you understand?" I need you to understand because I do not and I am not sure I have said and done enough to explain.

"I'm trying, but it's hard . . . . whenever I think I've begun to understand you something changes . . . . and then I don't."

"It was never my intention to hurt you."

"That's not true." She says, sounding amused. "Niall's right, it is a long time since I've forgotten anything."

I should probably apologise into the silence but the words are stuck in my throat, nevertheless I pull her tighter into my body.

"If I do understand you." She offers eventually. "Then I understand why you behaved the way you did sometimes."

"And if you do not?"

She blows out a long breath which tickles my skin.

"Then I guess I'll get some new painful memories to add to the pile."

"I do not want to hurt you."

To my surprise she laughs.

"I am amusing you again?"

"In a way." She chuckles. "If I really do know you and understand you, then I would be right in my assumption that the reason you haven't _promised_ not to hurt me again is because you don't make promises you can't keep."

"I do not make promises I do not _know_ I can keep." I clarify. "I am not a human, I rarely think or act like one, I cannot even begin to imagine the ways I may inadvertently hurt you in the future."

There is a long but not totally uncomfortable silence.

"I know you Eric. I know I do. But I can't trust it."

"You cannot trust me?"

"No." She sighs, pressing her lips briefly against my skin. "I trust you. It's me I don't trust."

"I need you to explain Sookie."

"That's a shame." She sounds amused again as she throws my words back at me. "Because I'm not sure I can."

I throw my head back and laugh, I cannot help it, she may lack guile or experience but she is an intelligent woman who does not give ground easily. I could take her comment about not trusting herself in any number of ways and she knows it.

My laughter and her giggles subside.

"This is serious isn't it?" She asks eventually and I know she has returned to our original topic.

"Yes." I confirm. "But you have choices."

Silence as she stiffens against me.

Alright. I am not a coward. I can do this. I know what I want and I can deal with not getting it. I am mindful of a sales techniques course Pam made us attend in the eighties, she thought it would aid our pre-revelation ability to manipulate humans, as if we needed anything more than our glamour and our looks. Anyway, one of the 'lessons' was simple, place the option you want your mark to select in the middle.

"You could accept your Great Grandfather's offer and live in Faery. Nowhere is devoid of all danger, you know that as well as I do, but you would be protected there, held in high esteem. And there would be no Vampire."

"Niall intimated that I would be bored." She murmurs quietly.

"I do not know Sookie." I respond truthfully. "No Vampire has ever been to Faery and lived, though tales _are_ told of its beauty."

"It seems like a pretty extreme choice when I know so little about it." She huffs.

"I am sure the Prince would be more than happy to discuss it with you in more detail." I reply, failing to keep the edge from my voice. "And you should ask him, you deserve to know everything."

"Humph."

Time to move on.

"You could remain here, in the Palace, I would protect you as I promised."

"You know you can then?" She asks perceptively.

"I know I trust myself to do it better than any other." I qualify.

Silence.

I should say more, explain, I probably have _not_ said and done enough . . . .

"But it could be dangerous for you, for Pam, Charles, Thalia, Alcide . . . ."

"For everyone if your identity were discovered." I will not lie to her, I want her to understand and make an informed choice and this, I think, will be our impasse . . . .

"It sounds like a very selfish choice."

"That depends how you define selfish." I counter. "If you choose to leave you will be missed."

"Humph."

I knew this would be hard, one way or another, but not his hard. I am in some kind of pain that I cannot identify.

"There is another option."

She mutters something that sounds like 'whoop-de-doo' and snuggles closer into me.

"You could leave. Possibly back to Bon Temps, preferably further away, I could still protect you but you would be away from Vampire and the current attention they have for you. In time you would be forgotten, you could lead a normal life. Marry, have children, a career. Leave all this behind you but still be in an environment you recognise and are comfortable with."

She gasps and manages to get even closer to me.

"I am certain Niall would assist in ensuring your anonymity and safety."

No 'humph'.

In some ways I believe it to be her best option. The Britlingens I am about to hire will keep her safe in the unlikely event that she is found, at least long enough for the Prince to find her and ensure it.

Silence. And not a comfortable one. Long. The joy of holding her close is leaking out of me slowly. This is so complicated and we have barely scratched the surface . . . .

"What do _you_ want?" She demands suddenly.

"You know what I want."

Silence, the gathering of courage, she has a lot, and it takes time.

"I need to hear you say it." She growls.

My groan of protest is instinctive and heartfelt but I know I am going to do it anyway.

"I want you to stay with _me_. I want _here_ to be where you belong."

I am not a romantic but in my head she should be melting into me and telling me that that is what she wants too. But this is Sookie, my own personal demon, and that would be far too simple . . . .


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 56 Verbal Chess**

**SPOV**

Nothing is ever simple is it?

I've done this 'reading between the lines' stuff before, just never on my own behalf and I guess I have a slightly better appreciation now of why Tara used to push me so hard in High School to dip into the head of the boy she liked, and no matter how much evidence we already had, find out once and for all if he liked her.

Of course I can't read Eric's mind. Not that I need to, I can feel him instead. But despite all that I'm the insecure and unsure teenager and I doubt that's going to change until he tells me outright, and in small non ambiguous words, why he wants me to belong here. Which he probably isn't going to do. Which probably leaves us at some kind of impasse because I _know_ I can't. Which probably doesn't matter because there's a big ole impediment to progress that needs to be discussed first.

It pains me to still be so mad at Gran and her apparent inability to keep her knees in their proper place.

And now the silence is getting awkward because a full minute has passed since he 'might' have declared himself and I haven't said a word. That's got to be considered rude by any species . . . .

An ominous reverberating growl rends the air.

"Was that your stomach?" He asks incredulously.

I should fake some ladylike embarrassment but I'm so relieved for the interruption I start giggling instead.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I should probably get something to eat."

"I agree." He says seriously. "I would not want to face that thing without a sword if it got loose . . . ."

Tension broken I shove him playfully and roll myself out of the bed, taking the sheet and winding it round me in a smooth move that seems to amuse him.

"Would you like me to escort you down to dinner?" He asks, smirking up at me, completely unabashed by his nakedness, or my ogling.

"Yes please." I mutter, grabbing my clothes and retreating to the bathroom.

I hope he doesn't mind waiting, my crowning glory is in serious need of some attention, my hair is my one real vanity, no one looks as good in a ponytail as I do without putting in some serious effort . . . .

Done I realise that my clothes from last night are in a less than ideal state, in fact I can smell them over Eric's shower products. Ick. Now what? If I go back to my room to change I'm both going to want another shower, and lose my nerve about having this conversation with him. I am so useless . . . .

"Sookie." He calls through the door. "I have fetched fresh clothes from your room, would you like them?"

"Please."

I open the door a crack, my inner thirteen year old, and he passes them through, withdrawing his hand so I can shut the door again, which sets off more giggling. Really, there are elements of this whole situation that remind me of High School, he's thoroughly explored parts of me my Doctor hasn't even mentioned and yet I'm embarrassed about him seeing me in a towel?

I snort when I examine what he's given me. A knee length, tight, black jersey skirt and a midnight blue sleeveless silk blouse with a scoop neck that frames the top of my cleavage, no underwear. Is that something he likes or was it just the first thing he picked up? I've no idea but at least I look good in it.

When I exit the bathroom he looks me up and down appreciatively with one of those infrequent meltingly genuine smiles.

"Shall we?" He says, offering me his arm.

"I don't have any shoes." I point out.

"We are at home Sookie." He murmurs as he guides me out into the hallway. "Who cares?"

We pass a few people in the hallways who nod politely but the kitchen is unexpectedly deserted, even with the fewer humans in the Palace now this kitchen is usually a twenty four hour hub of activity since apparently all weres eat like Alcide and his pack mates, as in constantly and copiously.

The center island is clear of everything except a place setting and a note from Smith, letting me know where my dinner is waiting. Poor man, though he is happy to have provided me with one of my favourite meals, he's currently pacing his office waiting for the 'King' to allow him back into his own kitchen.

I bustle round for a few minutes, my empty stomach urging me to hurry, before settling myself on a stool with Smith's excellent lasagne. Eric has already poured me a large glass of wine, heated himself a blood and perched on the stool opposite me. This feels so normal it makes my eyes prick alarmingly.

My stomach insists that I eat but I can't taste the food and I'm not enjoying it, the pressure to speak, it's my turn, is making me queasy. Eventually I set my fork down with a sigh and take a slug of wine instead.

"I can't make a choice that puts other people in danger." I blurt out.

He sighs but doesn't seem disappointed, more like this was what he was expecting. What does that mean? Is my being me his 'get out of jail free' card?

"So you will go to Faery then?"

Damn, how can he sound so reasonable when all I want to do is hurl crockery and scream up a storm?

"I don't want to."

Great. At least I didn't stamp my foot, at least I don't think I did.

"What do you want Sookie?"

My mouth opens and then closes again. I can't say it.

"Whatever you want Sookie. I am more than prepared to find a way to make it work."

"Why?"

He laughs softly and shakes his head.

"I am no expert but I thought relationships were about give and take." He counters, raising his eyebrow. "I believe it is your turn to give."

"This isn't funny Eric." I warn him. "We're not playing a game."

"Are we not?" He asks in an infuriatingly calm voice.

"Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"Perhaps. If you become mad enough you will eventually tell me what I need to know, once we have that the rest is just details."

"How did you get to know me so well?"

"I have no idea." He answers truthfully.

Another slug of wine is called for.

"Britlingens huh?"

"They are a species of Demon." Eric explains, twirling the bottle in his hands. "They are universally acknowledged to be the finest warriors in any realm. They possess a little magic, mainly invisibility related, but their instincts and abilities in battle are unparalleled. You would equate them to the legends of the Swiss Guard I believe, because they are not natural aggressors, they often work as mercenaries or bodyguards, but they are _extremely_ selective about whom they will serve."

"And they'd work for me?"

"They are willing, because of your connection to the Prince, he saved their realm and they consider themselves indebted to him."

"There's something you're not telling me." I can sense it.

"They are, expensive." He admits after a moment.

Ouch.

"So what you are telling me is that if I stay here, but leave New Orleans, you will be forking out a sum of money you don't want to tell me about, in order to preserve my life?"

He nods, returning his attention to his now empty bottle.

"We both know I'm not your responsibility."

He smiles, deviously.

"How do you define responsibility Sookie, is it just something that's been given to you by another or do you decide whether or not you want if for yourself?"

"You haven't really answered my question."

"I am sorry." His politeness belies the deviousness I can feel rolling off him in waves. "I thought I was the one who asked the question."

Argh!

Fine.

"I'm not going to go swanning off to god knows where with a demon bodyguard, at your expense, and especially not if you would still be in any kind of danger."

"Aw, Sookie, you want to protect me?" He says, imitating my Miss Smarty Pants voice from that night with eerie ease.

"There's nothing wrong with my memory Eric and those circumstances were entirely different!"

Still smiling he inspects his empty bottle and gets up for a refill, my narrowed eyes following his movements. I know what he's trying to do and I really can't blame him, who says the man has to be the one that says all the hard stuff. But is he really so blasé about what could happen to him, and the people he cares about, if anyone finds out about me?

He settles back on his stool and I quaff some more wine.

"It's not details Eric." I sigh in defeat. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because of me or what I am."

"But you will not mind if something happens to me after you have moved to Faery?"

I scowl at him.

"You would not be in this position if I were not Vampire." He points out. "This is not your fault. This is neither of our faults"

"But I could keep you safe by leaving."

"No. You could not. You cannot control what happens. No one can."

I have no answer to that, the thought of _anything_ happening to him makes my insides twist violently and my pyrotechnic palms itch.

"You cannot protect me if you are not here."

"Eric . . . ."

"And I cannot protect _you_ if you are not here. I can assume that you will be safe in Faery, just as you can assume that I will be safe if you are. But neither of us will know for certain."

"We won't know for certain if we're together."

"But at least we will be together, to face whatever happens."

"The people you care about . . . ."

"Pam and Thalia? They know what you are, they are aware of the potential danger, they care as little as I do."

"You'd risk them, for me?"

"Yes."

"Eric, that's not right . . . ."

"You would make their decisions for them?"

"No. Of course not."

"You wanted to belong somewhere Sookie. And you do. Here. With me, us. Would you really leave?"

I shake my head, hanging it in shame. He's right. I'd rather be here trying to do something than 'away' and worrying about it, even if that isn't the right thing to do. Because I'm so scared that I'll lose him, whatever of him I have, if I'm not paying attention . . . .

"I want to do the right thing." I whisper.

"The right thing according to whom?"

My mouth opens and then closes again.

God? The Preacher? Gran? Me?

The right thing according to me is to stay here, I want it so badly . . . . and I could at least try to protect him . . . . and my friends . . . . if I was here . . . .

"You are not a disabled waitress from bum fuck Louisiana." He growls. "And it's time to stop thinking like one. Do you not deserve to be happy? Are you not capable of helping your friends, your Great Grandfather and I make that happen? Is your happiness not worth fighting for? Are you going to climb on your misshapen moral high horse and ride away from me? Will you fret about your decision? Will you shed a tear when you hear that a glamoured Fangbanger staked me?"

"Alright!" I scream. "I'm a bad person. I don't want to leave you. I want to stay here. I need to protect you too!"

I love you. I'm weak. There's no point to any of it without you . . . . and it scares me how I got here so quickly and how much further it might go . . . .

"Then we are on the same page." He isn't gloating but he definitely seems satisfied with my admission.

I wish I was.

I hope that staying here without endangering him is as simple as he seems to think and I'm apparently selfish enough to take that at face value for now. And I'm also selfish enough to shift my focus immediately to my other fear.

Is it bad that I've just admitted that I want to stay with him without any kind of qualification whatsoever? He's already reminded me that he doesn't think like a human, what does his idea of my 'belonging here' actually entail? I trust him. I can feel his desire for me to stay and his, _esteem_ for want of a better word, for me. But I've no idea what that actually means in practise. Staying here, the way I feel about him, well it could turn out to be an act of outstanding self-flagellation. And still I don't really want to leave him . . . .

Groaning I flop forward, shoving the wine away and resting my head on my arms, not sure if I have the guts to ask him what my staying here means for me.

Head Fangbanger? Asset with Benefits? Mistress of the Harem? Saturday Night Special? Resident Feed and Fuck?

I want to know and I'm frightened to ask.

"What would I do if I stayed here?"

"Do?" He sounds surprised.

"Yes Eric, do." I snap, dragging myself upright to find him watching me with concern.

"What do you want to do?"

An innocent enough question but I shake my head.

"Well." He responds carefully. "You could continue to work for me as my paid asset, if you wish it."

"Okay."

"You would live here?"

I shrug. He doesn't want to live here, why would I, we both hate it . . . .

He sighs.

"I do not know what you are asking me Sookie."

Damn. A genuine question. Not part of the 'game'.

"I'm not a fangbanger." I mutter, letting my head fall onto my arms again.

"Ah." He sounds as amused as he feels. "You desire to know the nature of our relationship?"

You're pathetic enough, take the opening when it's offered.

"I guess so."

"And you do not already know?"

"I don't trust myself. I think we've already covered that . . . ."

"I am sorry." His voice is heavy. "I do not have a description for what we are."

I _knew_ it.

Silence. Resignation. Defeat. _Eric_?

"I would lay down my life for yours. I would kill anyone who threatened you. I would want to kill anyone who tried to take you away from me, no matter how benign their intentions. You are _mine_ and I am yours. I would do anything in my power to make you happy. I would let you go if that is what it took. I suspect that I am no longer able to be truly content without you. I think about you all the time. I would spend the rest of my existence with your naked body beneath mine, if I could. You are the only woman I want, can even imagine wanting. I am ruined for all others. And you terrify me. I am sorry Sookie, I am Vampire, and I do not _know_ what that makes us . . . ."


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 57 Words Just Get in the Way**

**SPOV**

My heart has stopped.

It's not dramatic over emoting from my inner teenager.

It's actually stopped cold.

And I can't breathe . . . .

Strong hands grip my shoulders, pulling me upright and into his chest.

"Sookie." He murmurs. "Breathe."

My eyes open and the recessed lighting in here is so bright it's like daylight.

Its pitch black outside and I can see us both so clearly in the floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the kitchen from the palace gardens.

A generously endowed golden haired woman with wide blue eyes, sitting on a stool, shoulders clasped against the massive, and frankly glorious, body of a centuries old warrior who guards his heart jealously, his blonde hair partially obscuring his face as he looks down at her.

Air whooshes into my lungs and my heart stutters back to life.

I never expected . . . . was prepared for the worst . . . . would have been able to deal with a whole lot less . . . .

"Are you really mine?" I whisper.

Using his hands on my shoulder her turns the stool slowly to face him and I manage to lift my eyes slowly past the pearlescent buttons of his shirt, his throat, his mouth, until they rest on his piercing blue ones.

"You wish to have property of Sookie Stackhouse tattooed on my forehead?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and fighting a smile. "Because I was hoping to be allowed some dignity in my abject and total surrender."

"No!" I admonish quickly, planting my hand over his mouth. "No jokes. We both know that isn't what's happening here."

"Do we?" He asks, my hand muffling his quiet words.

I should answer quickly, I know, but I'm distracted by the tightness around his eyes which only I ever seem to see. This must be so much harder for him than it is for me, I've been so terrified of letting him see how complete his hold on me is that I've given him nothing but my fear and confusion, taking his strength and reassurance in return. It's time to give him something of me but it's still surprisingly difficult, despite his words and what I've been feeling in our altered bond. There's a tight ball forming in my chest and a prickly lump closing my throat, trying to stop my mouth from blurting out my own utter and irrevocable capitulation . . . .

And yet, I love him, and you don't close yourself off from the person you love, not when they love you too . . . .

"IwouldneverhaveleftEricIwoul dn'thavebeenableto." Breathe. "Ionlywanttobewithyoudon'tletmego. _Please_."

His lips purse, pressing a kiss against my palm and the skin around his eyes relaxes, which relaxes me, a little bit. It isn't enough, but I can't tell him I love him, even if he already knows.

"You terrify me too." I admit, dropping my hand and my eyes.

His hands slide across my shoulders and up my neck, gently, until they are cupping my head. Then he lifts it, supporting it with his thumbs under my jaw, so I have to look at him. Only fair I suppose.

"We are done with words." He declares, pinioning me with his eyes. "They make neither of us comfortable."

I open my mouth to object, I'm a woman of the Cosmo age after all, but he silences me with his mouth and his tongue. And he's right, sometimes words just get in the way.

I love the way he pulls my face to his, explores my mouth with that tongue, like he doesn't already know the topography, such long lazy circles, keeping the rest of us separated until I can actually feel the current arcing between us, the ache building inside me. How does he do that? Do I do the same to him? I'd be worried it's just physical, I crave him so much and I've seen those fears in the minds of others, but I know it isn't, the 'pull' is in our bond too, drawing other parts of us inexorably together, its alien but somehow not frightening, maybe it's even the 'magic' Niall spoke of. And as ever it chases away everything else, my modesty, my sense of self, leaving only him, the man who stole my world . . . .

My hands splay out on the object of my lusty affections, revelling in the sensation of the muscles sliding under his skin, fluttering and contracting under my touch through the silk of his shirt. Groaning into my mouth his hands circle my waist, lifting me easily onto the marble counter, kicking the stool away, pushing his body between my legs, his kiss becoming urgent, forceful enough to rock our bodies. The countertop is cold under the thin jersey of my skirt but the rest of me is on fire, thighs clenching on his, instinctively trying to pull him in, there's still so much space between us. The fairy / giant Viking dynamic isn't working in my favour though and soon I'm mewling into our kiss, trying to wrap my arms around him, longing for our bodies to be pressed together. I want, I want so bad it hurts . . . .

He releases my mouth, fastening his lips onto my neck, sucking the skin between them, tasting it with his tongue.

"_Eric_." I moan, my head falling back from a combination of sensory overload and a desire to let him do whatever he wants, my hands, now clutching his shoulders, and his, securing my waist, the only things preventing me from toppling backwards.

His mouth drops to my proffered chest, kissing his way down over my blouse before diverting to place open mouthed kisses on each straining nipple, leaving them painfully pinched against the wet fabric as he lavishes attention on my sternum. I arch toward him but still we aren't close enough, my whimpers as pathetic and needy as the words I struggled to speak, the ceiling above me an unfocussed expanse of white light . . . .

Footsteps in the hallway, a deep bass growl that resonates through me, footsteps retreating, his mouth slanting down over mine, one hand now in my hair, the other gripping my butt and pulling me roughly to the edge of the counter, pressing our hips and mouths together as he holds the rest of us apart.

Our bodies are rocking again, a maddening echo of I want us to be doing . . . .

My hands take matters, well, into their own hands and our bond surges with his _appreciation_ as I burrow them between us, snapping his belt and yanking down his zipper, sliding my fingers past the moisture at his tip to wrap around him.

Now it's his head that falls back, my eyes focussed on his adam's apple as it bobs in his throat. God, there's nothing about this man that isn't sexy and my eyes dart sideways to the windows. Where a generously endowed golden haired woman is feverishly trying to get the man she loves inside her, where he belongs. Not that he's putting up much of a fight, all of a sudden . . . .

His lower hand pulls me forward until my bones are rolling almost painfully on the edge of the counter, his other hand tightening in my hair, tilting my head back and exposing my throat.

"_Neeeeed_ . . . ." I keen. "God, Eric, please . . . . _love_ me . . . ."

Groaning he slides through my fingers, breaching me, just barely, and stopping. My fingers, still inside his pants, curl into the skin covering his hip bones like talons, nails biting into his flesh.

"Fuck!" He spits out, the irony not lost on me.

Please, oh please, oh please . . . .

His lower hand pulls me onto him, hard and fast, his other forcing my head further back, my eyes onto the innocuous sweep of ceiling and lights, hands onto his ass.

"Mine." He growls, cool breath ticking my arched throat.

"Yours."

"Mine, _mine_ . . . . mine . . . . _mine_ . . . . . mine . . . ."

Each declaration punctuated with a short hard thrust and a tightening of his hands. So gonna bruise, so not bothered . . . . yours . . . .

Finally those hands bring us flush together, his shallower penetration offset by the feel on his body rubbing against my chest and the view of his tight jaw and chorded neck above me. And my _desire_ in this moment changes, I still _ache_, I still _want_, but I realise what Eric is doing, prolonging this, our closeness without words, our connection, making it last, making it _sing_ . . . .

My eyes close and I stop fighting him, allowing him to guide my head to rest against his shoulder, my lips pressed to his throat. Allowing myself to just _feel_ us together . . . . and I am warm, tingling from head to toe with pleasure . . . . floating in a haze of nascent sensation . . . . dimly aware of my physical surroundings . . . . my identity . . . . myself . . . . _time_ . . . . acutely aware of everything about him . . . . his taste . . . . his smell . . . . our smell . . . . the way he feels . . . . dragging and teasing at my flesh . . . . his fist against the back of my skull . . . . the clenched hand on my butt, rhythmically pulling and pushing us together . . . .

My orgasm, and the blinding white light that engulfs us, takes me by such surprise that I'm not even able to cry out as I come apart, clutching onto him, my tether, for dear life, barely aware of the cold seeping through the material of my blouse as he pushes me down onto the counter and begins the song again . . . .

**EPOV**

Eventually, satiated and sleepy, I brought her back to our room, mindful of her Great Grandfather's admonishment that she rest and recover her strength. I do not think I have exacerbated that, our bond indicates it is not so, but I am unwilling to take the risk.

I must resume my responsibilities at sunset and I should be working but it is hard to tear my eyes away from her long enough to make it happen. Also, she is snoring lightly, and I find this soft sound pricks at my protective instincts, I have a strong urge to stand at the foot of the bed with my sword lest anything attempt to disturb her.

I was honest, I have no idea what we are, but I want us to remain it. I may not understand, but I am not a coward, I will not shrink away from what is happening, no matter what consequences I can see in our future.

Our room. Our future. Is this so different from the others I assume responsibility for?

Snorting I shake my head and resume scrolling through the myriad emails that await my attention. This technology is a boon, but it also a sloppy way to manage, sterile words are no replacement for seeing someone's eyes when they give you their report, errors, omissions and lies are so much easier to spot in person.

For example, I would dearly like to know what has prompted Washington, a notoriously lazy and negligent monarch, to rouse himself from his self-absorption and demand to know why the Council convened to report on Rhodes has yet to meet. The Pope is apparently not a Catholic and bears no longer shit in the woods . . . .

**SPOV**

I dreamed I had wings, silver gossamer ones, they made a noise like a swarm of bees and The Rock was trying to teach me to fly. And every time I crashed back into the canvass of the ring he'd pin me until I counted out and the crowd roared their approval. I've no idea what all that was supposed to signify other than that I'd wake up to find myself being crushed by a dead weight, literally.

Once again, surely there were some small, less heavy, Vikings?

Not that I'd want one. I'm kind of partial to this one, even if he is suffocating me with his giant, hairy, armpit.

I am wide awake, as sharp as one of Gran's carving knives, and craving a little sun before it sets for the day.

Vikings are harder to dislodge than the bedclothes I usually tussle with, but eventually I manage to wriggle out from under him and take a shower.

The upper floors of the Palace are shrouded in gloom and it's not until I reach the stairs leading down into the foyer that the sunlight is allowed to flood in. The humans and weres barely acknowledge me as I make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee and taking it out onto the terrace with me.

The sounds of the city are louder out here, the gardens look like a tranquil retreat but they're really just an expensive illusion. Not that any of its bothering me.

I am only ever usually this calm and relaxed sunbathing in the yard at home, when there isn't another living soul close enough to bother my disability. This is the first time I've really noticed how profoundly it has altered, in all the other turmoil the true control over it I have always longed for arrived without me being consciously aware of it. I can switch it on and off at will, no scrabbling around for my shields, but I don't really even need them anymore, it kind of runs in the background like CCTV footage, I can watch it or ignore it, pause or rewind it.

Of course that realisation isn't the only reason I'm relaxed and happy. I might not have a label for what Eric and I are but inside, where it matters, my insecurities have packed away their placards and slinked off into the furthest corners of my mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm still hopelessly in love with a vampire and I'm not naïve enough to believe that's going to be plain sailing, I'm just comfortable enough for now that I don't need to dwell on it. Thanks to Eric.

I've even seem to have accepted that selfish, dangerous, sensible, or not, with _him_ is where I belong.

Which means I need to take a trip home, sometime, soon.


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 58 Sailing the Squalls**

**SPOV**

"Absolutely not."

He didn't even look up.

"_Excuse_ me?" I demand, hand propping onto my now jutting hip like a laser guided missile. Not that womanly danger signals are of any use whatsoever when the person in danger isn't watching.

"It is too dangerous and I will not be here to protect you."

I bite back the obvious retort that his illustrious presence wasn't _actually_ requested in the first place and take a deep breath.

He is anxious about this upcoming trip to Chicago and he would be much happier if he knew I was safely interred in the Palace, surrounded by high tech security and deadly guards. I know this, through our bond, he knows I know this via the same means, by unspoken agreement neither of us will actually say so. This bond which has made for some interestingly esoteric conversations over the last couple of weeks. His words make him sound like a jerk, his emotions let me know that I am loved. And I love _that_, even though to an outsider I'd probably look like the world's most pathetic doormat.

We both agreed that it was too dangerous for me to attend the Rhodes Council with him, what with the sheer quantity of 'me' related issues we need to cover up. That doesn't mean I have to like it though. He can assure me he's not likely to be in any danger until he's blue in the face but I'm still going to worry and I'm not going to do it cooped up in this ridiculous 'funhouse'. It's the perfect time for me to go back to Bon Temps and finally tell everyone what's going on in my life.

Sam, very politely fired me when I called him a week or so back. Not in so many words, he just explained that he'd had to take on another waitress but that he'd always try to find something for me when I was ready, I didn't think it was right to tell him on the phone that I wasn't ever going to be ready. He told me about Tara's new man, some guy called Eggs, which explains why she hasn't been hassling me and has only responded to a couple of my texts. I haven't even tried to get in touch with Jason, stubbornly waiting for him to think about me long enough to wonder where the hell I am.

I need to go back. I need to close up the house, pack my stuff and make my peace with Gran. I still don't know what the hell got into her, other than a fairy, but whatever it was, if she could tell me, I bet I'd understand it better now.

"Eric." I sigh finally, relaxing my stance. "Could you please at least look at me when you're being difficult?"

"Difficult, moi?" He asks, closing his laptop and smirking at me over his desk.

I roll my eyes.

Yes, he's difficult alright, or a hard row to hoe as Thalia put it.

"I will go _insane_ if I have to stay here while you're in Chicago, I need something to do. Bon Temps is something I need to do, so I might as well get it done."

"I would prefer you to wait until I return."

"I know you would and I appreciate why, I really do, can't we compromise?"

He smirks again. Damn. He was always going to let me go, now I'll probably have to take half the Palace with me, like a travelling football team.

"You're really annoying." I growl.

"I have just had plenty of practice." He shrugs, wafting satisfaction at me. "You will take Alcide and Thalia."

I nod, I was expecting and hoping for that.

"And Charles and Vladimir."

"I thought Charles was going with _you_?"

"We talked about it and decided there was no point, in the unlikely event that something untoward happens one extra set of hands is not going to make much difference."

I plop down onto the couch nearest me.

"Tell me again how there's nothing to be worried about?" I groan.

In a blur he's sat beside me.

"No one knows what you are. Everyone knows I had to end Newlin before he was discovered by the humans. Considering magic was involved in the deaths of the bombers no one will be surprised that I have not been able to find the culprit and no one will be surprised that Texas hasn't found Newlin's Maker either. Nothing to worry about."

Yep, all sounds completely reasonable.

"So." He continues. "Alcide, Vladimir, Thalia and Charles. And you go nowhere except the bathroom alone."

"You do remember I'm a twisted fire starter?"

"Of course." He snorts. "And it's _such_ a good way to draw attention to yourself."

"Smartass." I huff.

He shrugs. "Better than jerk I suppose."

"Jerk."

"Ms Stackhouse there are serious consequences for addressing a monarch in such a disrespectful fashion."

"Your Majesty I am not above turning your paperweight back into an apple if you mess with me."

"Oh please." He laughs, raising his hands. "Don't . . . ."

"Jerk."

…..

Kicking off my flip-flops and dropping my towel I slink into the heated pool, the best thing about the Palace in my opinion.

When I've swum a few lengths I twist over onto my back, staring up at the stars, floating aimlessly and letting my mind wander.

The last few weeks have been good. Really good.

We still haven't really talked about our bond, not that it matters I suppose, it's there for both of us, I'm not sure what we'd gain from recognising that we don't know anything about it. I can't affect it at all anymore, it just is, like an invisible ball of energy that's always hovering somewhere in between us, there's no trying to keep him out of me or vice versa, the important parts of us are just there, in the middle. I don't know how it works from his side but from mine I can feel an ethereal connection to the ball from where our lights are joined inside me. It should probably freak me out but it feels like it's always been there and I've only just noticed it. Which has been happening a lot lately.

He's a busy man, in fact my own duties have kept me pretty busy too, I'm a Stackhouse not a freeloader, but he's tried to make as much time for me as possible and yet even when he can't there's still this sense of togetherness that I get from just being in the same building as him. It's probably the bond again but I really, really, like it.

And I really, really, like the way we 'talk'. So much that he's even accused me of being the insatiable one, which would be pretty funny if I didn't harbour a suspicion that he's right. Oh well, you know what they say about late bloomers, I can't find it in me to censure myself and it finally dawned on me what Niall meant about figuring out some of the stuff that makes me glow on our own

I'm actually looking forward to seeing Niall again, whenever he chooses to show up, the whole paperweight to apple thing turned out to be ridiculously easy and I'd really like to learn to do more. Obviously I haven't been able to flambé anything since Fiji and I haven't tried popping anything either, bits of the Palace suddenly being reduced to charred slag would probably constitute drawing attention to myself. But despite my initial reluctance I want to master that too.

If I was a bit less useless with the magic thing I could go with him to Chicago, I'd be a real asset, not a disaster in the making.

I sigh, rolling over and stroking to the side of the pool.

He's used to all this potential danger and I'm turning out to be a lightweight. My nerves are shot and he hasn't even left yet.

In lieu of my becoming the magical equivalent of the death star Thalia's been working with me on my swordplay again. She's a hard taskmaster but an excellent teacher, if I ever get attacked by a teddy bear that sucker's going down . . . .

No one could teach me how to use a gun. Alcide's taken to calling me 'Sure Shot Stackhouse'. Which is technically Jason, he's a much better shot than I am, the uncaring oaf. Anyway, my shiny new revolver is coming with me to Bon Temps, King's orders. Over compensating much?

Tomorrow. We both leave tomorrow, the first time we'll actually be apart in what feels like forever.

But this is life right? He says he'll be safe, I know I will be, people have to deal with stuff like this all the time, worse than this . . . .

Time to go inside. I don't know for sure what form Eric's goodbye will take but bearing in mind our preferred method of communication I'd like to be in his bed waiting for him to make it.

…..

I slept all the way to Bon Temps, Alcide driving us and Vladimir following behind in the van with Charles and Thalia in their travel coffins.

In my defence I'd been up all night and watching Eric settle himself in _his_ travel coffin was a lot more upsetting than I bargained for, even if he was laughing at me at the time.

My house feels empty and unlived in, and not just because my stupid brother has left a note in place of the television letting me know he had to borrow it because his was broken.

I thought I'd be really sad but as I look around I realise that despite mostly growing up here it hasn't felt like home since Gran died, it and I, have just been marking time since then.

"He's cleaned out the kitchen as well." Alcide informs me, coming to my side. "Didn't leave a note but the cupboards are bare. On the plus side there's some penicillin growing in the refrigerator, I'm guessing that was a fruit or vegetable."

My stomach growls in protest, I wasn't expecting much, maybe a tin of soup or something.

"We could go to Sam's?" He suggests.

I sigh.

"Might as well, at least we know the food's good."

…..

I guess I was prepared for the reaction but I can't say I enjoyed it much.

_. . . . Sookie's back, I was beginning to think vampire Bill had done away with her . . . ._

_. . . . who the fuck does she think she is, waltzing in here in her expensive clothes . . . ._

_. . . . she ain't that crazy, those two are damn fine specimens . . . ._

_. . . . thank god she's okay . . . ._

_. . . . oh, look who the cat dragged in . . . ._

At least it's early evening and there aren't many people in, could have been a whole lot worse.

Masochist that I am I steer us to a table in Arlene's section.

"Well, well, well." She drawls, arriving in record time. "You gracing us with your presence today?"

I nod, pretty sure any words will just cause trouble.

"You staying?"

Straight to the point I see.

"For a couple of days."

"Well aren't we lucky. What can I get you?"

Vladimir and Alcide both look at me.

"We'll take three Lafayette Burgers please Arlene, and a pitcher of beer."

"My pleasure." She drawls insincerely, ambling away.

Lafayette's not in, neither is Tara but I can hear Sam out back in his office, pouring through his books and thinking about some woman in Shreveport he's been seeing.

"Sam's in his office." I whisper.

"We can't let you see him alone cher." Alcide reminds me and Vladimir shakes his head, the one Eric said he'd only keep if I came back in the very best of condition.

Funnily enough, I don't want to see him alone. So the three of us go . . . .

…..

One painful and long conversation later we return to our table to find Charles and Thalia waiting for us, stoically ignoring the blatant stares of the Merlotte's faithful whilst nursing a couple of bottled bloods.

No one says a word as Arlene practically hurls our plates down in front of us, she's been waiting for me to come back, just so she could make it clear how incredibly unwelcome I am.

There are tears stinging behind my eyes as we eat the luke warm food but I don't know why, after all I don't belong here anymore, I've only come back so I can leave properly. And I know, in the marrow of my bones, that I'm doing the right thing, so why should it matter what anyone else thinks? Why did I even try to explain? I should've just told Sam that Eric was paying me a truckload of money to work for him and left it at that. That's what I'm gonna tell Jason, that's something he'll understand. No idea what I'll tell Tara, the truth didn't work out so well here but she's known me a whole lot longer than Sam has, maybe she'll even be happy for me.

I let my knife and fork fall to the plate, appetite abruptly gone.

Thalia raises her eyebrow.

"Trouble's coming." I sigh. "Sam's called my brother and told him I'm now officially a brainless moron who has accidentally whored herself out to vampires."

"I thought you said this Sam was your friend." Charles observes, mentally considering how best to whip Sam's ass.

"He's only doing what he thinks is right." I sigh with a little more gusto. "I couldn't exactly tell him I'm not the mildly disabled waitress he thinks I am, could I?"

"No." Thalia concedes. "Yet if he truly friend, need would not arise."

"Its more complicated than that." I begin and then stop, rubbing my temples, I can't really explain it to a couple of vampires and Vladimir's presence is constraining. I've read his mind, I trust him, but he doesn't need to know every little pimple on my psyche, or who I really am.

Sam's always looked out for me, and he's still trying, he just doesn't know what he's looking out for anymore, or the real Eric. And even if I could have I'm not sure I'd have been able to find the right words to convince him. I thought, that with my mind and heart made up this would be easy, boy was I wrong . . . .

"Do you wanna leave?" Alcide asks, reminding me that uncomfortable meeting number two is imminent.

"No." I shake my head and reach for my beer. "Might as well get it over with."

"I'm sorry cher, he might listen to reason . . . ."

Doubtful. I can hear him coming and he's not at his most reasonable. Bet he isn't bringing my television with him either . . . .

"He's got his shotgun with him."

"And what, pray, is he planning to do with that?" Charles asks, managing to be amused and annoyed at the same time.

"It's Jason." I shrug. "He's harmless, if he's really pissed he might shoot a hole in the ceiling."

I narrow my eyes at Vladimir.

"You will _not_ shoot my brother." I growl with complete conviction. "You need to be as scared of me as you are of Eric."

"Mistress correct." Thalia nods seriously. "We will deal with idiot brother if required. Bear relax."

"Here we go." I mutter as Jason's truck squeals into the parking lot a few minutes later.

All eyes turn to the door as he bursts through it, bristling with righteous indignation, but thankfully minus the shotgun.

"Sookie Stackhouse!" He yells, storming toward us. "What the fuck?"

"Jason, I . . . . SHIT!"

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"Shit is right little lady!" He hollers, eyeballing the four others who have risen from the table with me.

"Thalia . . . . the AVL . . . . they're coming . . . . we're in trouble . . . . Eric's in trouble . . . ."


	59. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 59 Regicide**

**SPOV**

I'm not sure I actively caught most of what happened next but I'm pretty sure Bon Temps will never forget it, or maybe they will . . . .

Jason opened his mouth to yell again and grabbed for my wrist, Vladimir grabbed his first and twisted it up behind his back, using it to propel Jason away from us and onto Mrs Fortenberry's table. The table didn't break, this isn't the movies, but it did tip over and face plant Jason on the floor, my last view of him was the soles of his workboots.

Mrs Fortenberry yelled, Jason yelled, Sam yelled, Arlene screeched, Alcide grabbed me and the four of them started hustling me for the door, forming a protective wall around me.

I don't think we made it that far though, I was just letting them guide me like a puppet, my whole focus was on the bond, and Eric.

I'd felt him wake up while I was talking to Sam, it had calmed me, reminded me why I was here, why I was doing the right thing, even in the face of Sam's reasons why I was doing all the wrong ones. But now it's like 'The Scream' my own horror reflected back from his, the ball between us crackling with negative energy and a lack of comprehension. Suffocating, like a downy pillow to the face . . . .

…..

Black figures in body armour are swarming all over the Merlotte's parking lot, like ants at a picnic. Restraining people, glamouring them, sending them back inside to watch the 'band' that's suddenly playing.

Some of the 'ants' are heading back to New Orleans with a distraught Vladimir in the truck. The rest of them, and their fleet of stupidly intimidating SUVs, are ferrying us to the airstrip outside Shreveport. Explanation has been minimal, not that that matters to me anymore, I may be totally focussed on our bond at the moment but my faithful 'disability' is recording it all for later. Full awareness comes with the miles the convoy covers, we _are_ in trouble but at least they are bringing us together and not tearing us apart.

Small, sanity preserving, mercy.

They don't seem bothered about any conspiring so the four of us are sat in a section of seats facing each other across a table, seems more like a train than a plane but what would I know.

I've plundered every mind I can get into, which is all of them, and I know some of what's going on, but not all. The need to find out more is going to corrode a hole in me from the inside out. Gran used to say a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing and I can really buy into that right now. They've got it all so wrong that I want to leap to my feet and start shouting like a madwoman, flinging burning light out of my hands till they have no choice but to listen. But I can't tell them why I know that Eric didn't kill Philadelphia and Sophie Anne and I can't tell them how I know that's what he's been accused of. And I can't tell the others either.

So, using every ounce of self-control I've got, I have to sit here, one of a collection of four stone statues, and suck it up until I get the chance to do something about it.

We're to be witnesses cum hostages and possibly co-defendants at Eric's trial.

I feel so sick. My insides are burning _and_ churning. The strain of stopping my left knee from bouncing frantically under the table is giving me cramp. But surprisingly I've no urge to cry. What I'd really like to do, so badly it's another physical pain to add to my current repertoire, is find the person responsible for this outrageous debacle and flash fry their heart in their chest. Or their eyeballs, or their balls if they have them. Whatever would be most painful really, I'm not sensing a preference.

Gran would be horrified. But I'm not. I might be her granddaughter, a Stackhouse, but I'm also a Brigant, and so help me god if I'm able I will make someone _pay_ for putting me through this, and pay dearly.

Misplaced and unformed daydreams of little ole me being powerful enough to get everyone to see reason and put this situation to rights keep me vaguely sane, completely still, and puke free, until we land in Chicago.

By which time I'm such a mess that Thalia and Alcide have to discreetly help me off the plane and into the waiting limo.

…..

Scenery flashes past, recorded but not seen. Rightly or wrongly I'm focussed on the hope that Eric and I will somehow be slung into the same cell.

It doesn't happen. Thalia and Charles are ushered off into whatever quarters have been prepared for them for the day, and Alcide and I are shown into a bland, windowless room with a couch, a water cooler, and a generic meeting table with ass numbing chairs.

"What . . . ." He begins.

I shake my head and with a shake of his own he sinks onto one of the couches and drifts off to sleep.

Lucky, lucky, dog.

Seated in one of the utilitarian chairs and slumped over the cold table, I review, fruitlessly, what I've learned. I've managed to glean every bit of information I can about the layout, guards, bugs, alarms and weapons in this place. And I've absolutely got nothing to do with it.

…..

A couple of hours after sun up a were in the now familiar body armour, comes to ask if either of us need a 'human' moment.

We don't.

So instead his identikit friend brings us coffee and an array of salty snacks more suitable for a night in a bar than breakfast.

Funnily enough the lack of Eric in our bond helps me focus, not that it makes a blind bit of difference, the vampires here, and there are many, are all asleep and giving nothing away.

…..

The Longest Day.

Worry and a lack of information have worn me down to short nub.

A very short nub.

…..

Felipe de Castro is one of the last vampires to wake up.

The fucker.

How I'm not glowing I don't know.

He's got nothing on Eric so he's imprisoned Quinn's mother and sister and forced him to fabricate evidence against my King. Fucking glamoured him to make sure I don't hear any of it. He's so pleased with himself that if I could pop I'd be in the bathroom right behind him now, glaring at him in the mirror and raising the massive wooden stake in my hand.

Hate. I hate, hate, _hate_ . . . .

Because I can see how the Council could find everything the pair of them are going to say totally plausible. After all, Eric and I can't tell the truth, can we?

…..

"Are you alright?" Alcide asks quietly as we're led out of our room.

"Not really." I answer tightly.

"Can I help?"

"Unlikely." I respond, squeezing his massive bicep. "Stay out of it."

He opens his mouth and I silence him with a look and the Eric eyebrow.

And for a moment the vampire himself is amused at my 'air of command'. But only a moment.

God how I wish this bond came with a walkie talkie. What do you know? What can I do? I love you, do you know that? Do you have any idea how much I regret being too chicken to tell you? Or you being too chicken to hear it?

We arrive in a huge amphitheatre, empty for now, curved rows of seats facing a raised dais with six thrones fronted by a high bench. A court room to any eyes. Very ornate, very symbolic, very vampire.

Alcide and I are gestured into the first row of seats behind the 'defendant's' table.

Vampires are feeding at the donor station outside, reading their emails, gossiping on their phones, anticipating some drama, the normality of it all nearly sends me careening over the edge.

A short while later Charles and Thalia are ushered into the seats next to us, their guards taking station with our around the outside wall.

My palms are itching. Itching in the worst possible way.

Thalia places her hand on my forearm, wrapping her tiny fingers gently round it, smiling forward at the 'bench' as six vampires file onto it.

Mississippi, Indiana, New York, Washington, Chicago and another, visibly ancient vampire, the others know as the Ancient Pythoness. A presence who usurped Quebec's place on the Council without any prior approval or subsequent argument from the others. Whose mind I cannot read. Not that I don't keep trying as various vampires, including De Castro, fill the rest of the chamber. Eventually she responds to my attempts to read her by giving me what I can only describe as a mental face slap. Terrified I withdraw into myself, appalled that I've thrown the game before it's even started. Only knowing she's amused by the half smirk on her lined face.

A vampire I don't know and instinctively don't like pings to his feet to call proceedings to order.

Serious allegations this, act of gross misconduct that, he drones on for an age. And it would all sound quite impressive if I couldn't see in the heads of the Monarch's on the bench that they'd pretty much all 'offed' a predecessor at one time or another, apparently it's perfectly acceptable if you don't get caught. How Eric's put up with this crap for over a thousand years I don't know.

I'm trying to stay angry and a little bit contemptuous but I can't, the fear is clawing its way through, making my throat dry and my heart stutter.

Eric isn't afraid. He's resigned and regretful. And that's a lot worse somehow.

Why isn't he here? Surely he gets to be at his own trial. I know I can feel him but this would be so much easier if I could see him. I think, hope . . . .

Doors open with a flourish and even though I already know it isn't Eric I twist in my seat, a ball of nervous energy.

A squat man enters, the lawyer, Desmond Cataliades, I've never seen him before but I recognise him from myriad thoughts. He's here to defend Eric. To a mixed reaction. The vampires that know Eric best, by contact or spying, are aware that he's rich enough to be able to afford him, the others are surprised and looking forward to exciting developments. Behind him, and towering over him, is his barely tolerated and arrogant human, known to some of the vampires present as Niall.

What the Caterpillar's Uncle?

I try to catch his eye but he is entirely focussed on the task of carrying Cataliades's copious paperwork and making eyes at the lady vampires present, which reminds me of Jason and abruptly makes me want to cry. Jesus I'm all over the place . . . .

When he takes a seat beside his 'master' at the table in front of us it's all I can do not to throw myself on his back and sob desperately onto his broad shoulders.

Thalia's fingers, tighten briefly on my arm, urging me to keep still and stay quiet.

'_My child'_ Niall's soothing voice floats directly into my brain. '_We will try to do this without revealing our secrets, De Castro's evidence is circumstantial but there are many here who would want to see your vampire brought down and will choose to believe his hypothesis. Desmond and I cannot promise.'_

I don't know how this works, can he hear me?

'_I can hear you.'_ He assures me. _'Stay calm, allow things to take their course, but decide Great Granddaughter, how you want this to end if Desmond and I are unsuccessful.'_

What does he mean how I want this to end? I want this to end with Eric and I whole and well. And together. What else could I possibly want? And how the hairy hell am I supposed to stay calm?

'_If the vampires cannot be dissuaded from their petty course then intervention will be required.'_

Does he mean a fight, what sort of fight, the kind where people get hurt? A war type fight, where lots of people get hurt?

'_My child. If you wish to stay with your vampire it will have to be here, he cannot come to Faery, I am sorry. This will mean surrendering your anonymity and fully embracing who you are. You and he, you will be strong together, and powerful, but you will always be targets. You will have to fight, from time to time, for your right to just be.'_

Around us the Master of Ceremonies is still droning on, procedures, evidence, witnesses, break times, rules for who and who not will be allowed access to the amphitheatre and when.

What's he trying to tell me, that we'll get no peace?

'_It is not as bad as you might think.'_ Niall's mental voice is amused. _'Peace can be extremely overrated.'_

What the hell is wrong with you?

'_You are my blood Sookie Stackhouse Brigant and I have seen your soul, and his, since their inception. You can cope with a little strife in your life just as well as he. If you believe it is worth it.'_

My thoughts snap back to the present when the 'Officiant' starts in on the potential outcomes of the trial. True Death. Pfft. Is there any other kind? Jeez, they're so pompous. And then my mind darts to Pam, does she know, is she okay, god she must be completely freaking out . . . .

'_Sookie.'_ Niall's mental voice is insistent. _'My little ray, we are running out of time, if it comes to it be who you are, I will stand with you.'_

Really? This isn't something you could have talked to me about sooner? Could you be any less cryptic about what I should do?

'_Yes.'_

I focus on the back of his neatly styled head. You know I've had a really bad day and if I had an ice pick in my pocket I'd stab you with it right now?

'_Trust me.'_

I snort and Thalia turns her head toward me.

'_No one need die here tonight Sookie, but we may create a situation where that becomes inevitable in the future. Choices might have to be made and you might have to be the one that makes them.'_

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him I don't care who dies as long as Eric and the people I care about are okay, but years of being me keep me quiet, because I don't really believe that do I? But Eric, if anything happens to Eric, where the hell is he anyway? _Shit_ . . . . You heard all that didn't you?

'_My child.'_ His mental voice is soft now. _'There is not time for me to expand on the larger picture and the potential consequences of anything that is said and done here. But trust that I can make it should the need arise.'_

I really don't know what he's talking about, how can I? And for a brief moment I close my eyes and indulge my fearful frustration in one final fantasy of kicking Gran's unfaithful, fairy humping, ass. And then I let it go, for good I hope, after all if she hadn't would I have any kind of hope for Eric in this situation?

Eric.

He's here.

The doors sweep open again, with a tad more drama this time, and a phalanx of body armoured vampires usher him inside.

Damn he looks good in a suit and tie.

Our eyes stay locked as he strides down the walkway, guards having to _really_ hurry to keep up.

It would be quite funny, if it wasn't . . . .


	60. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 60 Fatalistic Acceptance and the Stackhouse Gene**

**NPOV**

Really, these vampire are going to be terribly lucky if my little ray does not _obliterate_ them by the end of this night.

I am not entirely sure she has enough control or sense of self for such a test so soon but at least I am here and I will do my best to prevent her doing something she will deeply regret. Nevertheless I cannot break my dedication to allowing her to mature on her own. She _can_ do this, she just needs to trust herself, and me.

It is not easy to allow though. Even if I am convinced that this is the right thing to do. I know I over protect my own children, and my grandchildren. My wife used to tell me so all the time. And there is nothing wrong with them, they are all quite wonderful in their way, aside from the stew issues in the female line, but they are all . . . . ah . . . . a little 'soft'? I suppose that depends how you define soft, my son, Nathaniel is the consummate warrior and swordsman, decidedly un-soft. But he does not like to, actually cannot, make difficult decisions, they give him gas, verbal diarrhea and chronic fence post issues. All of which subsequently afflict me, since we are kin.

I would not make those mistakes with my little ray. I would prefer her to know her own strength and mind, and be able to deploy them as and when required. Just as her vampire can.

The 'right thing' is an entirely subjective issue in my experience. I believe, to the core of my being, that I have _mostly_ done the right thing, but there are plenty, alive and dead, who would vehemently disagree with me.

Is Faery at peace? Yes. Are supernatural wars a thing of the past? At the moment, yes. These are things I believed, and still believe to be right, but my subjective version of right has not come without bloodshed. Some of which I actually regret.

"What? Oh, apologies Master, the document is here."

I pass Desmond a random sheet of paper and he thanks me politely before bending his head and pretending to read it. Good luck with that, I think it contains instructions for making a cake of some sort.

He wants to laugh but he is not going to, Desmond and I have known each other a long time and we are friends for a reason.

_Finally_.

The officiating vampire, a town crier in a former life, is done reeling off all the pointless rules and we can start.

With him immediately proceeding to read the charges in his annoyingly nasal voice.

Stars! If only there were such a thing as fast forward magic. Perhaps there is, it is not an avenue I have thought of exploring before, surprisingly . . . .

Desmond elbows me and I pass him another sheaf of papers, something about the warranty on his automobile I think.

My little ray's eyes are literally boring a hole in the back of my head but her vampire has managed to avoid looking at me once since he took his place, regally if I may so, in the chair to the left of the dais.

Is it terribly wrong that I am probably going to enjoy this?

**SPOV**

Finally!

The charges are read and my friends know almost as much about what is going on as I do. Their speculative thoughts from earlier zeroing in on the truth. De Castro. The three of them trying to work out how he's engineered this, what is likely to happen, how they can thwart it, and what Niall's presence might imply.

Thalia is the most relaxed, her thoughts focussed on past experience of Niall that I can't focus on right now, there's so much I'm trying to catch as the nasal vampire calls on Nevada.

He stands, managing to beam at everyone in the room, and the hatred in me brings bile to my throat.

To keep quiet and still I focus on Eric's face, which is quiet and still.

He was lucky to come across this 'information' and saddened to have to bring it to the attention of the Rhodes Council, diverting them from their appointed purpose. Disappointed that an aged vampire with Eric's reputation should stoop so low in order to further his desires. Humbled and honoured to be afforded the chance to bring what he knows, and his witness, before a Council of his and Eric's peers. Afraid that his revelations will bring forth an even larger tranche of treachery and deceit.

I could make you toast in a heartbeat little man, do you know that?

Mississippi thanks him on behalf of the bench and he graces the room with his smile again, almost as if we're giving him a round of applause, which we aren't.

_Hate_.

Quinn, the tiger, is called and escorted in by yet more guards. His mind is a mess, weres obviously aren't easy to glamour, it looks like someone's taken a knife and fork to it. But I could undo it, given enough time, and a total disregard for the family Nevada is holding against him . . . .

Indiana begins the questioning. Starting back with Rhodes and Quinn's impressions of Eric's actions, it doesn't take long to see where thoughts are going with this. There's no prosecutor as such, it's more like the Council of Monarchs lead and every other vampire is free to join in whenever they get the urge. A Sheriff from Philadelphia wants to know if Quinn finds it suspicious that Eric managed to escape the hotel unscathed, in broad daylight and without the aid of Quinn's security team, whilst leaving his Queen to be grievously injured in the blast and subsequent fire. Or rather Nevada does and the Sheriff's going to be paid for asking the question.

The stress of knowing what's going on and not being able to do anything about is making me shake like a leaf, only Thalia's hand on my arm and Eric's presence giving me any kind of anchor.

"Not really." Quinn answers honestly. "His human, Ms Stackhouse, brought him out."

The Sheriff snorts derisively and several others laugh, all eyes in the amphitheatre turning to take in my tiny frame and then moving, like spectators at a tennis match, to Eric's magnificent Viking one.

"I see." Indiana drawls, sounding amused. "And how, exactly, did she do that?"

Again Quinn is completely honest. "I don't know." He shrugs. "She went upstairs to get him, one of his were guards was already up there, I'm guessing the two of them brought him out. The next time I saw her she was helping the human authorities search the rubble."

"Ah yes." Nevada intones, as if it's somehow dawned on him who I am. "The telepath who 'saw' the explosion and just in the 'nick of time' I might add."

Wow, that's doesn't sound incriminating at _all_.

I wait for Eric to say something, but he remains quiet, a look of disinterest pasted onto his face. Is he not allowed to say anything, should I say something, why didn't I pay more attention to the nasally voiced vampire? Not that the truth, that we tobogganed down the side of the building in a coffin as it collapsed, is likely to come over as particularly plausible.

Indiana resumes questioning Quinn, this time on events at the Palace when he arrived to plan the coronation. And that's when all Nevada's carefully crafted lies start spewing out. Overheard conversations, shifty behaviour, grossly overblown rumours of Eric's treasonous words to Andre, his abrupt absence from the Palace on the night that Philadelphia and Sophie Anne disappeared. His triumphant return the following night with me in tow, both of us clearly showing signs of a struggle. Talk about an unknown and untraceable, at least by Eric, force that attacked Philadelphia's men when they tried to recuse Sophie Anne's beloved child from the nefarious plottings of said Eric Northman and his co-conspirators.

There are hardly any questions, the assembled vampires are lapping it up like old ladies watching a soap opera. Where's the evidence?

Ah. There isn't going to need to be any is there? This isn't any kind of trial I'd understand. The outcome is predetermined, agreed.

More questions, from Washington this time.

First Charles.

Did Eric behave treasonously with Andre? Did Eric disappear the night the two Monarchs he's accused of killing did? Were the Louisiana vampires ever able to determine who attacked Philadelphia's men? Or what happened to him?

Charles's yes but, no but, answers don't appear to be doing much good.

Washington then starts in on Nevada, who's got something on him re his own past act of regicide, what had his former second and close friend Philadelphia told him about his visit to Louisiana?

And, he's off. Close ties with Sophie Anne, long time respect for her, glad Philadelphia was willing to look out for her when he himself was far too busy in his own state. Spoke to his friend by phone the night before he disappeared, was glad to hear he'd been able to visit the Queen, worried that it seemed several states, including Texas were planning takeovers, was pleased his former second was willing to assist in her defence and was appalled at the rumour that one or some of her own Sheriffs were plotting against her.

The Monarchs on the bench can all completely understand why the Sheriffs of a badly weakened Queen would be plotting against her but not one of them is planning to pipe up and say so.

The bench then questions Stan, who has his own ass to cover, which he does by admitting to nothing and pointing out the fact that he did, in fact, do nothing.

It goes on, circumstantial evidence and hearsay, but De Castro's done his homework well, the various vampires questioned, or who ask questions, they all manage to make _nothing_ sound so damn plausible. All presented in an order that makes the whole thing flow like a Broadway play, he's even got me enthralled and I _know_ it's all lies. Nan Flannigan is here, ready to report the wise justice of vampires to the world, I hope she's taking notes because Nevada's orchestrating a master class in making bullshit smell like roses . . . .

Except of course she doesn't know that, not even the vampires on the bench know that for definite, though they suspect.

Though I'm sick to my stomach it's kind of freeing in a way because the only thing that revealing what I am is going to achieve is to get me killed along with Eric and the other people he cares about, and call me a drama queen, but I'm okay with that. If Eric can vow to meet his true death before he'll let Nevada touch me then he's not going to complain about me coming to the same conclusion.

I don't know how he's figured it out but I can tell by the way his essence is coiled around mine in the bond, that he's come to the same conclusion without needing to hear it in the heads around him. He's just angrier about it than I am. Not that anyone but me can tell, his poker face is impeccable. And I can see it in his eyes, since neither of us can be bothered pretending to ignore each other any longer.

Thalia and Charles are starting to realise too.

Funny how we're all so calm about it, must be the fatalistic acceptance Eric's been channelling.

The 'questioning' continues. Eric is going to be last since it will be both more dramatic and leave less chance of anyone throwing a spanner in the works.

It's very difficult to sit still while De Castro's smug satisfaction is threatening to suffocate me like a noxious cloud but I know I'm going to get my chance to speak, since his plan is to lay claim to me during _my_ testimony.

Good luck with that.

I don't know what, if anything, Niall is going to be able to do to help once I start down this path, but this isn't really his fight so I don't suppose it matters, I just hope he won't mind keeping me alive long enough to say my piece.

Tell the truth and shame the devil. If I had a dime for every time I heard some hard hearted Bon Temps Grande Dame use that phrase to excuse the 'bitchfest' they were about to embark on I'd be a rich woman right now. Tell the truth and shame the midget vampire? I somehow don't think he'll feel much shame but if I'm reading this situation right he might well end up just as dead as we are. Hell they might even let Eric kill him, which would cheer him up no end. Albeit briefly, since we'll be next.

I chuckle grimly and Thalia turns her head toward me again for a moment.

Rhodes has created a public relations disaster for the AVL, or rather the apparent culprit's abrupt disappearance did. Even the saner parts of society, that agreed with me that the man was a crazed despot and about as far off God's intended path as you can get, weren't impressed that vampires apparently felt it was okay to do away with him without following due process. The deaths at Newlin's compound, courtesy of one Fairy Prince, have been widely reported and discussed. If something isn't done vampires might have to actually start thinking more about the way they behave since there are a great many more of us 'cattle' than there are of them.

And Nevada isn't as stupid as my vampires seemed to think he was.

His carefully crafted, if flimsy, scenario has given the Council everything they need, and though they may regret losing such a fine vampire as Eric to the cause they're going to take what Nevada's offering them with both hands. Nasty Newlin planted the bomb, killing humans and vampires alike. But it was a single rogue vampire who went out and 'offed' him for his crime. A bad apple who then used the whole situation to his advantage, killing his Queen and her dedicated defenders so that he could assume her throne and feather his own nest. A rogue vampire and his despicable followers who were subsequently caught and emphatically _and_ publically punished by their more honest and genuine peers.

No wonder Nevada's happy. He gets the state he wanted, the telepath he wanted, and the unending respect and gratitude of his peers.

Except he isn't going to.

Because there are two things he doesn't know. Yet.

One. The King of Texas is already preparing to kick him out of Louisiana, fair and square, before he can get his feet under the table. And two. The little blonde firecracker he's planning to dip his wick into is gonna burn that sorry little thing right down to the wax, except her aim isn't currently that good . . . .


	61. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 61 Panic in Action**

**SPOV**

By the time Chicago calls on me I'm quivering like a racehorse in the starting gates, leaping to my feet and shrugging off Thalia's comforting hand at a speed that puts most of the vampires to shame.

"Ms Stackhouse, you are Northman's human, yes?"

"No."

"Vampire are aware that he has blood bonded you to him. Twice. This makes you his human." He explains, wondering if I'm as simple as my hair color and chest size suggest.

I shrug because the truth is I'm not really sure how to start this conversation, I was hoping someone would ask the right questions and that I'd somehow manage to get myself to Eric's side before I had to answer them.

"Do you or do you not belong to The Northman?"

"I do."

"Then you are his human." Chicago informs me with finality. "How did you know that there was a bomb planted at the hotel in Rhodes?"

"I'm a telepath, I heard it in the mind of one of the bombers."

"Ah yes, the bombers who were all killed before they could be questioned about the specifics of their plot."

I wait, there isn't much I'm prepared to say about that, at least not yet.

"How did you manage to get Northman out of the building following the explosion?"

"He got us both out, he's old, all I did was wake him up."

Vampires are nodding, sounds plausible and doesn't prove or disprove anything, so Chicago moves on.

"Did you leave the Queen's Palace with your Master the night of her disappearance?"

"No. I was kidnapped by one of Victor Madden's vampires."

"Are you sure?" Nevada demands.

"Yes. I already knew him, his name was Bill Compton."

Nevada smiles, doing a fair impersonation of a barracuda. "Is this the same Compton who previously resided in Northman's Area?"

I nod and his smile widens, flashing the whole room again like a miniature lighthouse beam.

"A former associate of Northman's 'kidnaps' his human in the middle of an 'alleged' takeover." He chuckles. "How very convenient."

"Actually it was extremely inconvenient." I retort. "The Queen's forces were under attack and it was quite some time before Eric was able to come after me."

There's a chorus of snorts at my use of Eric's name which the vampire himself seems to find amusing.

"Tell me Ms Stackhouse." Nevada growls, eyes narrowing. "What does your Master expect you tell us about the events of that night?"

"The truth I would imagine." I offer, raising my eyebrow at Eric, who nods with a slight smirk.

"Ah yes, the truth." He laughs, waggling his eyebrows to the room at large.

Alright then you little freak, you asked for it.

"If you are implying that he's glamoured me so I'll say what he wants me to then I think there must be something wrong with your memory, _Felipe_." I say sweetly. "You established that wasn't possible the night of Eric's coronation. He might be three times the vampire you are but he can't glamour me either."

The room erupts briefly but all I'm aware of is Eric's bark of laughter and the swelling of pride in our bond.

"Northman, really." Washington thunders. "I would have expected your human to be considerably better trained."

Eric raises an eyebrow but remains silent.

"If you cannot control her one of us will." Nevada threatens, sensing a chance to take me I'm hoping Eric won't let him use.

"Sookie." Eric commands, rising fluidly to his feet. "Come."

Resisting the urge to wag my tail like a dog I wiggle my way down the row and out into the gangway, heeling like a good little human. As soon as I reach him one of his long arms winds around my waist, pulling my back into his chest and tightening to hold me there so we can face the amphitheatre together. He might have sighed a little in relief, I _know_ I did.

All eyes are on us but I only take the time to look at the ones I'm interested in. Niall, Alcide, Thalia and Charles are all supressing their smiles.

"Sookie." Eric continues, giving Nevada the stink eye. "This is a Council of Monarchs, one which the Ancient Pythoness has consented to join. Be nice."

"I'm sorry." I address the bench, ignoring De Castro. "But my point is valid. I can't be glamoured and there is nothing wrong with memories of what happened that night."

Chicago shoots De Castro a dirty look before resuming his questioning.

"How do you know the vampire Compton was working for Philadelphia?" He asks me.

"Because he told me."

Cue rude laughter all round.

"He may not have been telling you the truth." Chicago points out indulgently.

"He was." My answer is crisp and immediate. "Philadelphia made a deal with the Queen's second to give her safe passage out of the state after the takeover, Andre was supposed to make sure he got me in exchange, but Bill took me first."

"And why would he do that?" New York asks shrewdly.

Time for a little white lie, or rather, omission of part of the truth.

"Because Philadelphia had no intention of letting the Queen or her entourage live after his takeover, Bill was a procurer, he sent him to get me before Andre could finagle me away from Eric and hide me."

"Preposterous." Washington mutters, earning quite a few nod of agreement.

"Quite." Chicago agrees. "The whole idea does not fit with what we have heard so far and worse, I find it difficult to believe that a vampire would share such detailed and sensitive information with a mere human chattel."

"He didn't." I observe casually. "I read it in his mind."

Uproar, the whole place is in uproar.

"Nicely done." Eric murmurs.

"Thanks."

"It is not exactly keeping a low profile however." He adds quietly while the 'Officiant' goes to town with his gavel in an attempt to restore order.

"Lesser of two evils."

"You know it may come to revealing the other evil?" He asks me.

"I know."

He doesn't apologise, expect me to, or ask me if I'm sure, and I appreciate that about him, he's never once confused me with a blonde bimbo and he's standing by his choice to be with me no matter what I am. And he says I'm amazing?

My little moment is ruined when the commotion dies down.

Reaction is mixed. For the most part the vampires don't believe it but their ideas for what to do about me if it's true fall into two camps. Kill her. And, I've gotta get me one of those. No prizes for guessing which camp Nevada's in, he's already trying to work out how to get me out of here before I'm inconveniently discorporated by someone with less _vision_ than he's got.

The six vampires on the bench are watching Eric and I carefully, unashamedly considering their next action. They'd like proof, one way or another, which I was expecting, but they don't want Eric's impending martyrdom to be derailed in any way and certainly not by anything enlightening I may claim to have overheard in a vampire mind.

Mississippi comes to the obvious conclusion first but as the one most reluctant to see Eric's demise keeps it to himself, its New York who has no such qualms.

"The matter of whether or not the human can read vampire minds is extremely serious and needs to be considered in great detail." He begins. "However I do not believe that this meeting is the time nor place for such an activity."

"I agree." Nevada interjects.

Of course you do. Could you be any more transparent?

"I think, therefore." New York continues. "That ownership and responsibility for this asset should be transferred to a suitable Monarch who can bring her back before this Council at a later date, so that what she represents can be properly judged and considered."

Eric stiffens, tightening his hold on me until it's almost difficult to breathe.

As they launch into a discussion about just who will be the lucky Monarch the lawyer, Desmond Cataliades, gets to his feet and clears his throat.

"I am afraid." He intones, when everyone's attention is on him. "That that will not be possible."

"Excuse me?" Washington enquires, buying them all time to marshal their thoughts.

"Ms Stackhouse is the legally registered property of Eric, The Northman, King of Louisiana and as such she cannot be removed from his care."

"We know how this works Desmond." Chicago growls testily. "We all keep humans of our own."

"I understand that your Majesty. However this case is slightly different and not least because Ms Stackhouse is not a human."

More uproar though I have to say I don't mind being outed if it means they can't take me away from Eric and I'll get the chance to tell them that I know what they're up to.

"She looks and smells like a human to me." Indiana observes. "You had better explain yourself Desmond."

"Of course your Majesty." The demon lawyer inclines his head graciously, holding out his hand, into which a grinning Niall places a sheaf of papers. "Ms Stackhouse is an acknowledged member of the supernatural community and he who has right to her by blood has assigned that right to The Northman."

There is silence while they digest the implications, though it takes me a little while to pick the reason out of their heads. Though vampires frequently ignore the fact that being a member of the supernatural community confers certain rights on a person, they're at least cautious about flouting them too blatantly.

"This is turning out to be something of a farce." Mississippi chuckles eventually.

"I agree." Chicago snaps. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

"What about the issue of the 'non-human'?"

New York's question makes Eric snort with amusement for some reason.

"I don't see how that changes anything." Washington responds. "Once Louisiana meets his true death she won't belong to him any more, one of us can take custody of her until her alleged gift and origins can be properly assessed."

Desmond clears his throat again, once more drawing all attention back to himself.

"I am sorry your Majesty but your words seem to imply that my client is to be found guilty and executed, is that not a little premature since we are possibly not even halfway through proceedings?"

"Don't be such an old woman Desmond." New York snaps. "Washington wasn't implying anything."

Now or never.

"Yes he was." I pipe up, basking in the warm glow of Eric's encouragement. "This whole thing has been orchestrated with assistance from Felipe De Castro so that you can have someone to blame in the media for the untimely disappearance of Steve Newlin and all the other crap you pull because you think you're better than everyone else and entitled."

Now _that_, is silence.

Broken by high cackling laughter.

I can't feel anyone except Mississippi particularly amused by all this so I look first at the demon lawyer and Niall, both of whom are smirking but not actually laughing. Niall's eyes slide sideways and I follow them to the end of the bench where the elderly looking vampire they call the Ancient Pythoness is laughing up a storm and slapping her palms on the wood in front of her.

Absolutely no one is brave enough to interrupt her so the whole amphitheatre watches as she gets herself, reluctantly, back under control and eyeballs us back. She doesn't, however, appear to have anything to say so eventually New York gathers his courage and re-starts proceedings.

"_That_." He says sternly, addressing me. "Is a very serious accusation."

I straighten my spine and square my shoulders.

"Well unfortunately I haven't got any better _physical_ evidence than you all have." I respond, staring him down. "I can read your mind just as well as anyone else's here. Want me to elaborate?"

"I have nothing to hide." He huffs, leaning back in his chair as if to demonstrate the fact.

"That's debatable." I counter. "But beside the point. You're largely going along with this for expediency. I'd much rather tell you all what's going on in _Felipe's_ mind."

"Oh please do Ms Stackhouse." The vampire himself taunts me.

No one seems inclined to stop me, so I do. And the look of contempt stays on his face, even though inside, he's appalled that I'm privy to his every mental pimple.

"An entertaining story." He concedes with a sneer when I'm done.

"I thought so." I agree, all sweetness again. "Some of the others do too. Maybe we should 'frame' you for the Rhodes fiasco instead of Eric, seems to me my story would work just as well as yours, better in fact, since you're a far more believable villain, what with your 'track record' in Nevada an' all."

His jaw works for a moment and then he waves his hand dismissively, dropping into his seat like someone's cut his strings.

"Nothing to say?" I press.

He snorts and tips his patrician nose into the air.

Stalemate.

Or perhaps not. The crowd is loving it but the bench are considering exactly how pissed off the poker faced Eric might actually be. I _know_ and the answer is _extremely_. And they're wondering if continuing Plan A, with the resources currently available to ensure they have the upper hand, might be the most prudent way to go, from the perspective of enlightened self-interest and not wishing to die at the wrong end of a Viking long sword at some point in the future.

Eric's well-earned reputation and my potential abilities are working against us.

Fuck!

I _wish_ I was better at this.

"I think." Indiana suggests. "We should take some time to consider the evidence that has been presented."

The others nod and the 'Officiant' jumps to his feet and starts barking out instructions.

No, no, no, no, no. That's not what I want. They can't do this now . . . .

Body armoured guards are descending on Eric and I, intent on tearing us apart despite what was said earlier and the demon lawyer's vociferous objections.

And then it happens, something I promised myself I wouldn't _let_ happen until I had absolutely no other choice.

No one gets fried but the smoking crater in the floor before the dais is a _little_ bit difficult to ignore . . . .

Eric moves me deftly behind him and drops into a fighting crouch.

Oops . . . .


	62. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 62 Give Light . . .**

**EPOV**

I cannot be sure that Niall will help us, he has his own, larger, responsibilities, but I trust that he will ensure Sookie's safety. I have to, since I possibly cannot do so myself.

She has been amazing tonight, shown poise beyond her years in exposing the hidden agenda of the Council and their reaction to her revelations was not something she could have predicted. Vampire, especially the older ones, do not react well to the new and unknown and what looks like prudence in our elders is sometimes merely panic in action, to paraphrase Umberto Eco. They will continue on the course they have set, dig in and use their might in an attempt to ensure success. I hope she can see that, understand that _her_ limits are sometimes set by those of the world around her, _know_ that she is not to blame.

Of course Pamela and I did not trust this gathering at all, deciding to make our own plans. Half the AVL guards here owe their allegiance to the European Monarchs, that is one of the reasons they are so trusted in the New World, they have little local loyalty, and though I am not the only US vampire with Old World roots, I am one of the few that has bothered to cultivate and maintain them.

I am not sure if Sookie has picked up on the fact we have allies among the guards, no one can be expected to catch everything and as she cannot read my mind she would not be aware of my telephone conversations with Pam.

The smoking hole in the floor has certainly put the cat among the pigeons, but it has also bought time for those committed to us to complete their journey to my side.

The playing field is not exactly even, just not tilted as far toward De Castro's agenda as he would like.

**NPOV**

Well I cannot really blame her, everyone craves their chance to be heard, once she realised that no matter what she said the vampire were going to do their own thing it was only a matter of time.

Desmond put the fire out before it could spread and I have sealed the doors to the amphitheatre. Whatever plays out here now will only be between those of us currently present, though I reserve the right to pop a few of my guard in if the need arises.

I am a little disappointed that the Viking did not share his concerns and plans with his mate but I recognise his reasoning and I cannot really censure him for a lesson my wife had to teach _me_. Repeatedly. I am sure my little ray is more than able to deal with it when the time comes.

Relationships, in my experience, are a lot harder to manage than supernaturals.

**SPOV**

It takes precious moments to review the tape in my head and realise what's actually happening, not easy to do when chaos is erupting around us.

None of the black clad figures separate us, some are repelled by the four that are standing with us, the others by the charge that Thalia, Alcide and Charles mount to join us. Niall, of course, simply pops into existence beside Eric, flipping a brief smile over his shoulder at me before turning to face the room.

"Guards!"

"Guards!"

Jesus as if they don't have enough in here already for the ten of us . . . .

"Seize them!"

Honestly I don't think I even had time to blink before the fight breaks out. I can't see it myself but then I don't need to and it probably wouldn't help, the minds around me are a whirling blur of blows struck and taken.

The first wave that crash into our defenders are repelled and I'm wedged down into the corner by Eric's massive body as Niall pushes him back and leaps forward into the fray instead.

Eerily the fight is almost silent. There's none of the screaming or shouting I would have imagined for such violence, just grunting, snarling, the sound of bodies struggling together and the occasional stomach churning rip of flesh or snap of bone.

I can't follow it all so I focus on the minds of my friends.

Eric's body is jostled but he stays over me, lashing out when someone gets too close, calmly focussed on ways for turning this abrupt descent into chaos to our advantage. And it is chaos, another, much bigger, louder fight, has broken out on the other side of the amphitheatre when the vampires realise that not only can't any more guards get in, but they can't get out.

Breathe Stackhouse, you're not a vampire, you need to breathe. I'm glowing like a Chinese lantern, my whole body, I wish I knew what to do with it . . . .

Some of the guards are withdrawing, grabbing weapons, firing silver nets into the air, silver bullets into the struggling bodies.

Charles is hit in the shoulder, one of the guards standing with us in the thigh, Eric's body jerks as something thuds into him and he slumps to his knees falling back to cover my body with his own. My arms snap round him, hands immediately encountering the cool sticky blood soaking his shirt and the hard mass protruding from his chest.

Oh Jesus, _please_, tell me that's not a stake, _p-please_ . . . .

"_ERIC_!"

**NPOV**

"ENOUGH!" I roar with all the resonating power that can be garnered over five thousand years of being obeyed.

It is not enough, but there _is_ an infinitesimal pause, which the arrival of twenty full armed Fae warriors serves to cement.

Not all the vampire here know what they are but all recognise their silver chainmail and weapons as the potential for serious trouble.

In a matter of seconds the AVL's guards are disarmed and the room divided into two by my men, vampire herded before their Monarchs who have resumed the bench, and my little ray's people clustered around her and her fallen soul mate.

White hot fury is coursing through me, making it impossible to speak while I struggle to control myself. I am angry with these supernatural toddlers for their immature reactions and I am angry with myself, I should have controlled this situation much more closely from the start. I knew he was armed with a stake and I foolishly relied on my belief that he would not get close enough to us to use it, I underestimated him, and his throwing ability.

My little ray's pain is going to tear me in two.

My hands are balled into fists and my own light is threatening to explode in an orgy of destruction. My late wife was both an admirer, and hater, of my epic temper. What she would make of this night I cannot imagine . . . .

"What is the meaning of this?" Mississippi eventually asks, quietly and almost, respectfully.

Since I still cannot speak Desmond moves forward to address the vampire.

"My Regent, His Majesty Niall Brigant, Emperor of the Realms, King of Faery and Prince of the Sky Fae will address you when he is ready."

Their sudden swell of recognition and fear does nothing to amuse me, but it does unlock my vocal chords.

"You!" I thunder, my pointing finger unerringly finding the King of Nevada where he is attempting to hide in the press of bodies by the bench. "Will come here."

"_Now_." I add, as an afterthought.

I point down to the floor before my feet, where he will kneel, whether he likes it or not.

The vampire around him part like the Red Sea and reluctantly he approaches, his steps slowing as he clears their bodies and becomes fully exposed in the center of the room.

Patience is not one of my virtues so I take control of his leg muscles and walk him toward me, perversely enjoying their resistance, dropping him to his knees a few feet in front of me and locking him in place.

Before I deal with him I raise my blazing eyes to the bench.

"The King of Philadelphia, Victor Madden, killed Sophie-Anne Leclerq and her children, the night of his _failed_ takeover. And I killed _him_. It was my Royal Guard that attacked his forces at the Palace. Louisiana, albeit reluctantly, achieved his crown fairly and by the _will _of his people.

It was I who killed the Rhodes bombers and it was I who made the Reverend Steve Newlin vampire.

Now that you have the 'truth' you seek this _farce_ of an enquiry and _show_ trial is complete."

New York opens his mouth to ask questions but then thinks better of it. Sensible vampire.

My eyes travel to Nan Flannigan's.

"I will tell _you_ what to report when I am done here."

"This is a matter for vampire . . . ." She objects.

"_Everything_ is a matter for _me_ if I choose to make it so, Ms Flannigan." I cut her off. "You can either report what I tell you or I will take your tongue and have someone else do it."

Like several of the others she glances at Thalia's Maker, waiting for her to intervene but when she remains quiet all eyes return, fretfully, to me.

"Since your _laws_ are open to interpretation, to put it mildly." I sneer, still absolutely _livid_. "I am going to do some interpretation of my own."

I glance down at De Castro, scared but not nearly scared enough . . . .

"You came here this evening to twist a charge of regicide to your purposes and now I will apply it to _mine_."

I jab my finger in De Castro's face, enjoying his flinch. "_You_ came to this Council armed with a stake in the event that your plot, with the bench, to frame Louisiana required extra embellishment. When the opportunity presented itself you decided to use it to end Louisiana instead. _That_ is regicide, punishable by the true death."

"No." He murmurs, shaking his head emphatically.

Oh you tiny man. Resistance is _futile_.

"Coveting my Great Granddaughter and ending her mate is an offense punishable by pain." My coldest, cruellest, smile. "A great deal of it."

His shrieks drown out my little ray's.

And so they should, his pain is _required_ to be much greater than hers.

"He is quite the screamer." Ortel observes a few minutes later.

I nod, keeping my eyes on the assembled and somewhat cowed vampire on the other side of the amphitheatre.

"What are you doing to him?" He whispers.

"He thinks I am scraping the flesh from his bones with silver meat hooks."

"Ouch." Ortel chuckles.

Indeed.

The beauty of being me is that I could keep him like that forever, the pain always fresh, no breaking of his mind.

Tempting, but inappropriate to the message I need to convey. And Eildith would be furious.

_Eventually_ I stop, it is time to move onto other things.

"Stake." I order, holding out my hand.

Ortel pops the one from the Viking's chest onto it, his blood has congealed into a sticky mass. Oh Sookie, I am _so _sorry . . . .

Felipe De Castro is still kneeling before me, swaying, blood trickling from his eyes, ears and nose. Frankly quite scared enough.

With my eyes still on the other vampires I flip the stake in my hand and plunge it into Nevada's heart, looking down in time to see his eyes go wide, his mouth fall open in a silent scream, every muscle in his body clenching so it arches him further onto the stake, pulling it deeper.

"Goodbye Your Majesty."

One. Two. Three. Four. Five . . . .

Splat.

"Now then." I begin, sounding, I think, quite reasonable for a man whose Savile Row suit is now liberally spattered in gore. "Let us discuss what must happen next . . . ."

**EPOV**

I do not know what I was expecting, pain beyond anything I have ever experienced probably, I had somehow always assumed that the destruction of my body and the blood magic that animates me after death, would be excruciating. Every molecule torn apart under extreme protest . . . .

There is _pain_ but there are other sensations too, that I was not expecting, and cannot seem to make sense of.

There is darkness.

And _time_.

Warmth.

And sound.

Movement.

And _desperation_.

Pain.

And soul sucking _cold_.

There was . . . . something important . . . . I had it . . . . here . . . . I . . . .

The screaming and the velvet blackness are clogging my mind like treacle, making it difficult to think.

Dying, it seems, is nothing like I remember it to be.

The blinding light and piercing sense of loss, these though, are not entirely unexpected . . . .

…..

I 'wake' with every muscle in my body rigid and a silent scream on my lips.

There is something missing and when the rictus leaves me I instinctively reach sideways to capture it, my hand clenching, and ripping, empty and cool cotton sheets.

And then I am on my feet, both hands clawing at the still broken skin over my heart, a very real roar of pain wrenched from the depths of my soul.

There is nothing.

For the first time, in an agonisingly short blip, I am alone . . . .


	63. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 63 And the Darkness Will Disappear of Itself**

**EPOV**

It took a half dozen of Niall's warriors to subdue me, pressing my face into the threadbare carpet that smells so strongly of _her_.

My blood, her scent.

To fight them is instinctive, to fail is expected.

To give up so easily . . . .

"Eric." His face is a mere inch from mine. "I am sorry . . . ."

Sorry.

I do not want him to be sorry. I do not want him to have anything to be sorry _for_.

"Where is she?"

"She is here."

"Can I . . . ."

Niall's sorrowful countenance withdraws from my sight.

"Let him up." He commands.

"Majesty, is that wise?" Someone perched on my back asks.

"Let him up." He says heavily, his blood splattered Italian leather brogues appearing in my line of sight.

The weight lifts off but I do not get up.

"De Castro?" I ask, recognising the smell.

"Yes."

"Did he suffer?"

"You would have been pleased." He assures me quietly.

Carefully I get to my feet, hiding my wince at how the movement affects the now gaping wound in my chest.

"There is much you need to tell me." I growl automatically when our eyes are level.

He nods, sucking in his cheeks for a moment.

"I will tell you everything when you are ready. Your child, your friends, they are all safe."

My turn to nod.

I have responsibilities and soon enough I will need to meet them.

"Leave us." He orders his guards.

They hesitate but ultimately obey him.

I do not recognise the room but we are in Sookie's dilapidated farm house, I recognise the local scents and sounds. The way it creaks with old age.

My chest constricts and to my extreme annoyance his face softens in sympathy, as if he understands me.

Then he startles me by ripping the sleeve from his shirt, offering me his naked arm.

I blink.

"She would be unhappy." He says evenly. "If she saw your wound."

She is not going to though, is she?

Instead of constricting, my chest swells, threatening to rip me asunder.

"Eric." He says gently. "There are things that I need you to hear. It is always darkest before the dawn."

I snort. Platitudes?

"Son. I understand that all of this is new to you."

"You understand nothing!" I snap, backing away from him lest I do something stupid.

"I understand that Godric's death did nothing to prepare you for this."

As usual my glare has no effect on him whatsoever. We will not be probing my inner psyche over this. I know my limits. I know they are already breached. And I _will _deal with it. I will . . . .

"My father died when I was still a boy. I never knew my mother, she died not long after I was born." He raises an eyebrow, daring me to shut him down. "I wanted to be a chariot racer when I became a man, they got all the girls. But I did not get the chance, war came and I fought, I fought for so long it was all I could remember being able to do. It was me. I was good at it. Thus, when I met Sookie's Great Grandmother, Eildith, I was woefully ill equipped to deal with _her_."

He chuckles to himself, remembering, but not allowing me to look away.

"That woman destroyed my life more thoroughly than any weapon. I was absolutely sure she had been sent by some all-powerful agent of ruin. My own personal demon."

He watches me blink.

"Despite the death I had already experienced I was in no way prepared for hers."

Another blink.

"You may not like it Eric Northman, but I _do_ understand you."

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly.

"And you are luckier than I."

"What?" I demand, my voice almost a shout.

_That_ is his understanding?

"I will explain." He promises, thrusting his arm at me. "But first you will drink."

"I am not a toddler!" I object, offended by his casual air of command.

"I never thought you were." He smirks. "But for my Great Granddaughter I will feed you like one if you continue to be stubborn."

I want to rage, scream, maim and destroy. But instead I take his arm carefully in my hand, sinking my fangs into his wrist.

He tastes like an enhanced version of Sookie and the memory of it nearly sends me to my knees.

He is correct. I am in no way prepared to deal with this.

I just know that I will.

The pain of my wound magically recedes as I swallow his blood.

The other pain, gets sharper, cuts deeper. Moves in its possessions and settles down to take up permanent residence.

I knew, I always knew, it was inevitable, that I would lose her eventually.

…..

Because I am suddenly reluctant to face this Niall leaves me to take a shower and don the fresh clothes one of the guards has left on the bed.

I pause before I open the door, gathering my courage, unsure why I am attempting to avoid what I already know to be true. Except, perhaps, that my feelings for her have always been tinged with avoidance and I am disinclined to let even that go.

When I finally emerge Niall is waiting in the corridor, leant against the wall in a pose I recognise from myself. Extremely casual alertness, Pam calls it.

The house is dark and still, there is no one here who requires light to see.

I follow him down through the rooms in silence. Her scent is everywhere and it closes my throat over a range of emotions that I am unwilling to face.

"She is breathing." I whisper to myself as we cross the living room, it is faint and scratchy and I do not know whether to be relieved or appalled. My steps falter in confusion and he stops, turning to face me.

"For now." He says quietly, watching my face closely.

"I cannot feel her." I admit in a low voice. "I thought she was gone."

"She is." He informs me sadly, extending his hand. "Come, see her, I will explain."

Unsure if I have what it takes to do this, I do something I would never have expected, I take his proffered hand and allow him to draw me forward.

He ushers me through her door and everything I have been trying to fight overwhelms me, weakening my legs and I slump to my knees.

She looks, perfect. The sleeping beauty.

The wrongness of this and the injustice of it hits me full force. I do not know how this could have happened to her. I can neither see nor smell any injuries but her blood is not her own, like she has been transfused and she, the essential parts that I have come to rely on, _is_ gone.

The reality of it is so much that I have no shame for the blood tears that are staining my cheeks.

Gone.

I did not realise how much hope, despite Niall's obvious sadness, I had managed to manifest just a few moments ago. Somehow even the idea that she has decided, in light of last night's events, to go with him to Faery, severing our bond, forsaking me, was a cause for celebration.

"Eric, Son." Niall's voice is the only thing other than Sookie I can focus on. "We are alone here, do not hold back."

Using all my speed I flash to the bed, slowing to a less than human pace, since jostling her would be disrespectful, lowering myself down to carefully wrap my arms and legs around her, burying my face in her golden hair, staining it, I am sure, with my bloody tears.

Something inside me is definitely breaking. Broken.

"_Sookie_."

I will plead, beg like a dog, do anything . . . . for it not to be true.

Peripherally I am aware of him sinking into the chair I occupied the night I kidnapped her.

"I am sure you are aware of how wood in the heart 'breaks' the blood magic that gives you life."

I nod, not caring if he can see the slight movement.

"Fae and vampire, they do not . . . ."

He sighs.

"I was not aware it was possible . . . ."

He swallows.

"Her magic, her light. Somehow she was able to use it to hold you together, while she fed you. And when the stake was removed, her light, it healed you."

It is my turn to swallow, a dry, clicking sound.

"She gave her light, and her blood, to ensure you would live, Eric. She is spent."

No.

No. Not for me.

No.

"She loved you."

No.

No, no, no, no, no . . . .

"_Sookie_ . . . . _please_ . . . . I need you . . . ."

Someone is making an intermittent and harsh barking sound.

It is possibly me.

Fatalistic acceptance.

I _am_ broken.

…..

"Son, it is time for you to learn about souls."

The urge to maim, scream and destroy is rising but instead I find myself _listening_ . . . .

"Souls are amazing things. They live forever. Moving in and out of lucidity. Though they are not technically conscious they are able to remember, to learn, hope, covet, grieve, hate and love. And all these things they are able to do for eternity.

Most are simply never aware.

Those of us that consider ourselves supernatural beings are inclined to be more attuned to what underpins our existence.

I am able to follow souls."

I am not sure I am following _him_ but his words are hypnotic, holding what I know of me together, for now.

"Godric came to understand the unending power of souls. That was, in part, my fault and for that I am sorry. But he was always a spiritual being."

A pause.

"When I went to him, seeking to use our friendship to protect Sookie, he was extremely disinclined to help. He wanted only to protect you.

But when I showed him your souls, your connection . . . . ah . . . . Eric . . . . he would not deny you your soul's desire . . . . he loved you . . . . he came to hope, as I did . . . . that this time we could bring the two of you together.

Eric, I am sorry, I am meandering here, but this is important. To you.

The knowledge that there was more to existence than he realised, that there could be more for him also . . . . Eric, it is the reason he decided it was time to free his own soul to live again. And he will, my Son, we all will. Some of us when we are ready, some of us when we must."

Godric. Father, Brother, Son.

I . . . . I miss him. But Niall was correct. It has not prepared me for this loss. It shames me, for he was everything to me, yet his loss has been overshadowed, obliterated, _expunged_.

"_Your_ soul, Eric, has desired Sookie's since the dawn of time. Has, in fact, stalked her through it."

He laughs, mirthlessly.

"The bitter irony of this is that is has always been her who has resisted you. Been afraid to lose herself to you. It has been like a very bad romance novel to review. Until now. The most unlikely of circumstances. When you are her natural enemy. She is perverse, like her Great Grandmother."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Are you torturing me? Did I do something to earn this? I am sure I _did_, many times over . . . .

"This time . . . . Eric . . . . you and she . . . . you _are_ soul mates."

He heaves in a deep breath.

"You love her and she loves you."

"I do not understand."

And I do not. I want to imagine a way in which this makes things better, but I cannot.

"Souls, whether they know it or not, are capable of linking themselves irrevocably to another. You and Sookie, you have done that, mated, on the most elemental of levels . . . ."

I lift my head to look him in the eye, unable to see what good that could possibly be now, but he raises his hand.

"Ah." He chides. "Listen to the old man."

Unable to muster any resistance I slump back down until I am once again buried in her hair.

"_Sookie_ . . . ."

"You can never lose her Eric. She will always be yours."

"She is _dying_." I point out, though it is agonising to admit.

"Souls are always reborn."

"So, _what_?" My anger gets the better of me and I jostle her immobile body as I jerk upright. "I am _lucky_ because one day, in who knows how many years, I might bump into her reincarnation on the street?"

He sighs, slumping forward and fisting his hands in his hair.

"Yes."

"Yes? Yes? Are you out of your ever loving _ancient_ mind?"

I am aware that my grip on Sookie now would hurt her, if she were truly here, but I cannot seem to relinquish it. If my physical strength alone could only keep her . . . .

"Eildith was not my soul mate."

Now I really am confused, and angry and . . . .

"I am Fairy. I gave her my soul. Gladly. But she could not give me hers. It was already lost."

I keep my eyes on him, tightening my already hard grip on Sookie instinctively.

When he looks up his eyes are unguarded windows, full of unshed tears.

"Long before I met her she fell in love with another. His heart and his intentions were not pure. She gave herself, her soul and her light to him."

He stops, dropping his head to inspect his wringing hands.

"And he cast them aside."

He heaves in a quivering breath.

"The Fae do not get second chances in this regard. Because of his deceit her soul was not able to bond with mine. When she died I was not able to call her back to me. And though we may meet again, by random chance, in the future, there is nothing to bind us together. Our souls are forever destined to remain alone."

There are some obvious questions I must ask him but I cannot get past the implications of what he did.

"You knew . . . ."

"Yes. I knew. Everything. The eternal consequences, _everything_."

"And you still did it?"

You _knew _you were doing it? Giving away your soul, your chance . . . .

He raises his eyes to mine, the tears now rolling down his face.

"I would give my soul to no other. I loved her. She was an amazing woman."


	64. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 64 I Need to Love**

**NPOV**

I have stayed out of his head tonight, though it is clear he is all over the place, and well he might be, he had not learned to appreciate he was in love, how is he going to deal with the grief that is threatening to overwhelm him?

Nevertheless I have shared my own pain with him in order to help him understand.

Sookie did not know about souls. I never had a chance to tell her. And because of that I was never able to tell her that Eric was her soul's mate. Yet my little ray, without knowing she could have a second chance, made the same choices I did. She gave him everything she could because all that she had was never going to be meant for anyone else.

She gave her life to save his.

I felt the moment her realisation dawned and she made that choice. And I may have inadvertently singed a few vampires. Surina was most gracious about it, but reparations will need to be made. Again.

Everything I have done, I have done to spare my little ray her Great Grandmother's fate. And mine.

Interrupting her intimate moment with the oily specimen. Forcing her into the arms of her stalker. Preventing him from fleeing hers. Protecting them while they came together.

Though I know it was not a failure, in the longest of terms, he does not.

His eyes are still boring into mine, seeking answers.

But for the moment I have lost my power of speech again. The way he is clutching her dying body to his is far too close to my own memories for comfort.

And I love my Great Granddaughter. Unconditionally. But unlike _him_ I will never have her in my life again. Frankly I would quite like to punch him in the face for his lack of empathy.

I will not. I am _civilised_. My wife, Eildith, was very big on civilisation, and the progression of mine in particular.

I was looking forward to telling Sookie about her, explaining how similar they were.

Ungh. Thank the stars I am too old and too powerful to care how another will view my tears.

Time is slipping away. I do not know if this is possible. But it should be attempted. Her body is unharmed. She could return to it. He ought to be able to call her back. But I do not know for sure. I never had the option. I cannot help him. I do not know how. I am not even sure that I have faith that it will work.

But it is his faith I need. If he believes. If he desires it badly enough. We could both have her back.

"You can wait for her Eric. She will return to you."

"It will not be her." He objects.

"Yes, it will." I assure him. "She will not look the same, she will have a different life, different experiences, but it will still be her."

"I do not want that."

"I know. It is a bitter pill to swallow and a difficult concept to understand. But she will still be yours, just as you will remain hers."

He shakes his head, burying his face back in the hair at the nape of her neck.

"I do not want to be without her, I . . . ."

He pauses, drawing in a deep breath.

". . . . I am not sure . . . . I can complete . . . . the wait."

"There is another option." I begin carefully. "You could do as Godric did. Free your soul. Begin your new lives again, together, without the pain of waiting."

His whole body goes rigid and a growl rumbles deep in his chest.

"Surviving is the only thing I know how to do. I cannot, no matter how . . . . I cannot."

Since he is not watching me I permit myself a smirk. Of course he will not. Any more than I would have done. Not that I did not think about it a time or two. But I am a survivor too, and like his, my life matters to other people.

The silence stretches.

"She would not like it." He whispers finally.

"No." I agree quietly. "My wife would have been similarly disproving of such an approach. I am sure her soul would have found a way to seek mine out and beat it insensible."

He snorts.

False hope is a cruel thing and I hesitate over my next words.

"Eric. Her body is still here, she is still alive, there might be another way."

Slowly he looks up, rubbing his nose across her cheek as he does.

"You may be able to call her soul back to you, now, before it is too late."

Clearly he is not a man for false hope either as his face remains guarded.

"How?"

Ah.

"I am not sure."

He blinks at me.

"That is it?" He asks in a chillingly calm voice. "That is all you have?"

"Eric, Son, losing your temper now is counterproductive."

"Stop calling me son . . . ." He growls, setting her body gently on the bed and preparing to get up.

"Vampire!" I snap. "Will you let your emotions get the better of you or will you fight for her?"

He blinks again and takes a deep breath.

"I am sorry I do not have all the answers and do not know how to do this. Does that mean you will not try? Do you not love her enough? Am I mistaken in my assumption that you would do anything to bring her back to you if you were able?"

"No." He responds, voice tight.

There is a pause.

"What do I need to do?" He grinds out. Resolved, ready for the horror he may have to face to save her. Vampire are extremely gothic, primitive, in their approach and I can only guess at the arcane ritual, bloodletting and magic he is prepared to face for her.

Unfortunately it is not so simple as that. A few minutes of searing agony, bravely faced, a couple of incantations, and poof! All is right with the world.

He is not going to _understand_ this, let alone like it . . . .

"You just have to love her enough."

**EPOV**

I curse in my native language.

I just have to love her enough?

He has noticed that I am vampire, I am certain of this.

Love?

She has insinuated herself into every facet of my life. Exactly where, I can accept now, I wanted and needed her to be. But _love_?

Will I lose her because I do not know _how_ to love her? If I should . . . .

My body feels icy cold, even to me, and there is a sensation akin to panic racing through it. And though I do not need to breathe the feeling that I cannot, is deeply upsetting.

Sookie, help me.

"Help me . . . ."

My mindless plea does not, apparently, fall on deaf ears.

"Talk to her Eric. Tell her what you want. _Make_ her feel it."

If I do not feel it . . . . how can I make _her_?

"Can she hear me?" I ask, stalling.

"I doubt it." He sighs.

"Then what is the point?" I demand.

"The point _Eric_ is that words can be a focus for your emotions, if you tell her how you feel, how much you want her with you, her soul may be able to feel it."

I can tell her I love her, will do it gladly if it means she will return to me, but what if she, her soul, knows if it is not true? Why would she return to me then?

Nothing has changed. I would still fight and die for her. Give every last drop of blood in my body for her happiness, her safety. Give up my thousand year dedication to survival. My 'life' is truly nothing in comparison to hers. She is so young and it is too soon for her. It is not enough though, it cannot be, or she would be stirring in my arms already.

My life will not be meaningless without her. But it will be empty. Where once it seemed full, I now only remember it mainly as marking time.

Surely she can see the selfishness of my thoughts? That I want her back only so that I do not have to find a way to live without her? That is not love, that is not enough . . . .

"Sookie, please, I need you."

How ironic is it that I need her here to help me through this? No one else will be able to do so. Not that I need sympathy. I just _need_ . . . .

"You do not terrify me anymore Sookie, I have faced that fear, am facing that fear. There is nothing you could do to me that is worse than losing you completely. I do not understand the concept of our souls being mated, I cannot believe that such a thing would force me to lose you, to wait for you to return. It has to mean something more, it has to . . . ."

I am going to fail . . . . I am not enough for her . . . . she should have let me die . . . . I cannot give her anything she needs . . . .

"Sookie . . . ." I can barely recognise my own voice now. "Come back to me. There is so much I want to show you, share with you. So much you should see. I will protect you better, I swear, you will never have to suffer again. _Never_."

This is not love, this is bargaining with the devil for your heart's desire.

I take no comfort from Niall's description of mated souls being reborn together. A foreign concept. Ephemeral. Another person could never be Sookie, never . . . .

"Sookie, why did you save me for this? How could you? It is not your way to make another suffer unnecessarily . . . . I l-l . . . . admire that about you. I always have. So brave, so honest."

Please, take me with you, I only want to be with you . . . . I do not want to be King . . . . the vampire I am responsible for can manage without me . . . . I know this . . . . but I cannot let go Sookie . . . . it is deeply ingrained in me . . . . help me choose . . . . decide for me . . . .

Why must you be so selfless? Why? You made me admire you, want you. You made me l-l-respect you. Desire your happiness above my own. You made me do all these things and now you are just going to leave me? Was that your plan, your _wile_, was I right all along? Are you laughing at me right now? Is my pain amusing to you?

My hold on her is so tight I am literally grinding her bones together. Hurting her. With a great effort of will I relax my grip, winding myself gently around her again. Idly wondering if the stream of bloody tears are weakening me, but not able to truly care.

Of course my pain is not amusing to her. I _know_ her. She is an amazing woman. She would be horrified if she knew her gift to me had the potential to cause such suffering. To me, the undeserving one, to Niall, Pam, Herveaux, Thalia, Charles. Her clueless brother and unappreciative 'human' friends.

Of course she is not coming back. There are few here who warrant her presence. Are fit to give her what she needs. Many who would cause her pain simply because they can. Perhaps I can protect her best by letting her go?

The very idea is anathema to me.

Selfish I know. But I want her here. Where I can at least try to protect her, make her happy. This life has been miserable enough for her, what else might she have to endure until I can find her again?

I did not notice Niall withdraw but we are alone now. She and I.

I am doing best to put my wandering thoughts into words. If the bond were there I would fill it with the emotions I am feeling in the hope that one of them would prove to be correct, the one that can unlock the future for _us_.

I just wish . . . . wish, a very odd word for vampire . . . . that I knew how to make her, her soul, feel loved sufficiently to be prepared to return to me.

I hope . . . . hope with all my heart that what I feel for her is love . . . .

So many questions I should have asked that infuriating Fairy.

I am aware of the concept of love.

The mechanics. Lust. Attraction. I am dead, my brain cannot secrete any of the chemicals required for these. Attachment. Likewise. No children for us to protect, no chemicals.

Yet I feel, have always felt, these things for her.

Is that magic? Or simply love? Or is love the magic?

Argh! I am singularly ill-equipped to deal with this. She should be here to help me.

And I am going to lose the woman I l-l because she is not?

The sun has been here for a while now and despite the darkness of her room it wants to drag me to my 'proper' place, away from hers.

At least that is something I can fight, with every fibre of my being, however pointless.

The knowledge that time is running out for us is taking that sensation, the one akin to panic, and turning into something more tangible. Loss.

My breathing is still inextricably linked to every shallow gasp of hers. When that stops, I know now, in my own way, so will I. And that is inexplicably right. Because I realise, I think, no, I am certain, whatever the text book or romantic definition, that I love her . . . .

And though it is too little and too late I have just enough consciousness left to tell her.

"Sookie . . . . I love you . . . ."


	65. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 65 Just the Two of Us**

**SPOV**

Blurk! My mouth feels like the inside of shepherd's sandal. That's so nasty there aren't even words . . . .

My bed is seriously lumpy and I have clearly become incredibly spoilt. My bed, humph, my room, with light tight shutters. My brain is _so _sluggish this morning . . . .

Huge Viking crushing me, normal enough.

But really?

Could he be any heavier?

Jesus but he gives new definition to the term dead weight.

Is he trying to suffocate me in my sleep?

Annoyed I jab my elbow into him.

Nothing.

Of course.

My bladder needs attention, time for the Stackhouse wiggle . . . .

Two minutes later I have evaded his clutches and am able to stagger, surprisingly weak, into the bathroom.

Jeez, what the _hell_ did we do last night? My head is killing me.

I peer at myself in the mirror.

Yep. Death warmed over. Huge bags under the eyes, dull streaks in my hair, and I really need to get some sun, sallow doesn't even begin to cover it. Vampire blood must be running out . . . .

"Shit!" I scream, wrenching the bathroom door open to check that he actually _is_ hogging the entirety of my bed.

He is. Glorious body, bed hair, and all.

Slowly I close the door and inspect myself in the mirror again.

Alright Stackhouse. Calm. Facts. Consider them.

Court. Trial.

Staked. Very definitely staked.

I turn away from the mirror and open the door a crack to check.

Okay, good. Still sprawled over my bed.

Good. Definitely good.

I close the door again and return to the mirror.

I could be dreaming. Better check . . . .

Ow. Jesus. _Fuck_. That's gonna bruise.

My eyes are wide and threatening to tear.

Ow. Who came up with that stupid idea? Eric will have a fit when he sees the mass of broken blood vessels already flowering on my upper arm.

Eric . . . .

The rest of it comes flooding back.

Holy shit!

I slump to my knees in relief, my head thudding into the counter.

Ow!

We're not dead . . . .

**EPOV**

I wake _physically_ alone.

But impelled into the bathroom.

Where Sookie is knelt on the floor, rubbing her forehead and cursing like a trooper.

"Fucking, _ow_." She hisses, oblivious to my presence.

"He's going to kill me when he finds out." She mutters, still rubbing frantically. "I shouldn't have done it, I really shouldn't have done it."

She is rocking now.

"What should you not have done?" I demand. I have a list of things . . . .

Her bloodshot eyes snap to mine.

"Jesus! Eric! Fu . . . . mbalina . . . . do you have to sneak up on a body like that?"

I shrug, no other option available to me. I am in shock, I think.

She is here. Our bond is here. I am dreaming, obviously.

Shuffling on her knees in the long white nightgown she turns to face me. Her expression contrite.

"I bit you."

"What?"

"I bit you." Her head bows. "While I was feeding you. I'm so sorry Eric. I just wanted, needed awaytotryandtieustogether I didn't know what I was doing, not really. I didn't want you to die butiftherewasawayformenottodietoo . . . . I thought it might help."

I do not feel my mouth pop open, merely the resulting change in temperature on my tongue.

"I think we might have blood bonded for a third time." She whispers, head still downcast. "I'm so sorry Eric. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't mean to force you."

My lack of understanding has plumbed a depth I did not know was available to a sentient being.

"I love you." I blurt out, falling to my knees in front of her with a resounding thunk.

"Eric?" She asks quietly, her brow furrowing as her hands lift to brush the hair away from my forehead. "Are you alright?"

Yes. No. I have no idea. My emotions are rioting and I do not even know how to begin reining them in.

Already I am breathing in time with her strong, vital, heartbeat, the sweep of her fingers across my face.

I do not understand the absence of pain. Nor the giddy feeling that is threatening to spiral out of my gut and splatter my brains all over her damp and aged ceiling.

"Eric. You're scaring me."

"You are not dead." I inform her since stating the obvious seems the best way to go.

"Um, no." She admits, managing to look both surprised and concerned at the same time. "And neither are you."

"I should be." I point out sternly.

"Yes, well." Her jaw tilts and my dead heart swells with, something. "That was entirely unacceptable."

"You are misquoting Clint Eastwood at me?"

"Apparently." She concedes, her fingers still combing through my hair and brushing my face.

"Why?" I ask calmly.

Her jaw tilts a little higher and her eyes flash.

"Why what?" Ah, the innocent act. Whether she knows it or not it this is quite a skill she possesses. Unfortunately for her we have a bond and I know her a little too well.

"Do not play with me." I warn her, narrowing my own eyes. "You said 'but if there was a way for me not to die too'. I require to know why you would do something so incredibly stupid as to kill yourself to save _me_."

Her lips quirk as she fights back a smile.

"You caught that, huh?"

"I am vampire. Of course I did."

"You're not angry with me." She assures me.

"I most certainly am."

"No you're not. You're rubbing your face into my palm. Even the cat never did that when she was pissed at me."

I am offended that she has just compared me to a domesticated animal but cannot find the will to move my head away from her soothing hands. Her eyes have captured me and fairly effectively brought my thought processes to a screaming halt.

"I love you Eric. There was no way I was going to let you die if I could prevent it . . . ."

I open my mouth but one of her dainty fingers is immediately placed against my lips, which press together obediently beneath it.

"When I realised, don't ask me how, that it was probably going to be too much for me I bit you, don't ask me why I did that either, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And don't give me a hard time about it because you would have done exactly the same thing if our positions were reversed."

"You could have died." I whisper into her finger.

"I don't know why I didn't." She admits, that admonishing finger abruptly switching to caress my lips.

My previously limp arms come back to life, wrapping around her tiny body, pulling it less than delicately against mine.

"We are not done discussing this." I inform the crown of her head.

"Okay." She sighs, winding her own arms round my torso, hugging me surprisingly tightly.

"I do not like this nightgown." I murmur after a while.

"Neither do I." She huffs. "In fact I'm pretty sure I've never seen it before in my entire life."

In silence, and in complete lack of logic, we continue to attempt to squeeze the life out of each other.

"What happened?" She asks finally, the movement of her lips tickling my throat.

"I have no idea."

"You know it scares me when you say that, right?"

"Not as much as it does me." I huff.

More silence.

"Hadn't we better find out?"

I blow out a petulant breath that ruffles the golden strands of her hair. "Must we do it now?"

"I think so. There's a fairy in my kitchen. And Mississippi, and the one you call the Ancient Pythoness. I don't know about the fairy or the old crone but Mississippi's head is going to explode in a minute if we don't do something."

"Let it."

"I'd rather not." She groans and a vivid image of that same kitchen bathed in her Grandmother's blood, flashes into my mind.

"Sookie, I am so sorry you had to endure that."

"It's life Eric, not one of the good parts, but part of it nonetheless."

Silence.

"How did you know what I was thinking about?"

"How did you know I knew what you were thinking about?"

Clearly neither of us can answer that question.

"We need to talk to Niall." She sighs, relinquishing her death grip on me.

After a moment, and against my every instinct, I do the same, transferring my hands to her face, cradling it carefully and inspecting it intently. She looks tired and drawn but her eyes are burning fiercely. And I was absolutely correct. I do love her.

And I will love no other.

**SPOV**

Eric leaves me alone to take care of my human needs and talk to his 'people'.

My needs are great. Bladder relief. Clean teeth. Shower. Clean hair, I've no idea what's stiffened it but it seriously needs to be gone. And some time to gird my mental loins. We may be ecstatic to still be alive and together but we're both aware that there are going to be consequences.

And don't ask me how I know that, I still can't read his mind, I just know.

I spend some time trying to read Mississippi's but other than a general sense of agitation it's a lot less clear to me than it was the last time I was around him.

And then I give up, channelling some of Eric's fatalistic acceptance, we'll find out when we make it out to the kitchen.

And besides, I can barely concentrate on anything except Eric moving around my bedroom as he gets dressed and talks, and my stomach, which thinks my throat has been cut. I'm starving, it feels like I haven't eaten in _days_.

As I towel dry my hair in front of the mirror my face splits into one of Jason's shit eating grins. There's nothing wrong with my hearing or memory either Viking. You told me you loved me.

Feeling devilish I sashay back into my room and drop my towel as I lean over to search through my drawers for something to wear. Chuckling to myself when I hear his fangs run out.

Some no nonsense underwear, sweat pants and a vest top later I turn to find him glaring at me while he finishes up his conversation with Pam. At least I assume it's Pam, as I recognise the sounds but none of the words.

Smirking I lift my arms slowly to twist my hair into a messy pony tail, pushing out my ample chest.

You love me.

He swallows thickly.

You want me.

His tongue flicks out to idly caress one of his fangs.

You're gonna have to wait a while . . . .

Whoa!

"Wait?" He asks, arching an eyebrow as he pins me to the bed and hovers over me.

"My Great Grandfather is down the hall." I giggle. "Show some respect."

"I am." He growls, glancing down at the space between our bodies to illustrate his point. "Because if I feel you pressed against me now I am going to _take_ you, _possess_ you, _fuck_ you and make _love_ to you until the sun carries me away."

Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea.

I need clean underwear.

His eyes bore into mine as his face descends, until my tongue flicks out, without my permission, to lick my dry lips, then his attention lasers in on them like hawk that's spotted its prey . . . .

"Do you want me Sookie?" He breathes to them, fangs rubbing them up and down, nose strafing mine. "Do you want to reclaim what is ours?"

Yes, oh god yes . . . .

"Good." He chuckles. "Then we shall. _Later_."

"_Eric_ . . . ."

I don't know what I'm pleading for. Now, later . . . .

But when his mouth slants down over mine I'm done thinking, only able to 'talk' on the most basic of levels. His tongue, his lips, his scent. They're all I can be aware of, all I will respond to. The only way I can attempt an answer to how glad he is that we're still together. His kiss sucks the breath out of me and curls my toes. Stands my bound hair on end and has goose bumps breaking out all over my skin. Turns my stomach over and ignites my bones.

Love. I love him. Only him.

Groaning he pulls himself away from me.

"We have responsibilities." He murmurs regretfully.

"We do." I concur, untangling my hands from his hair and attempting to use my fingers to comb it back into some semblance of order.

Briefly he presses his forehead against mine and then he leaps to his feet, pulling me with him at a speed that has my head spinning.

Lacing our fingers together he leads us out of the door and down the hall to my kitchen.

I can feel the dust under my bare toes, this place is falling apart without me. And the chances of it containing a meal to accommodate my hunger are miserably thin . . . .

I am not surprised to find Niall, the Ancient Pythoness and Mississippi waiting for us. Though the sight of them gathered around the Stackhouse table with bottled bloods and a beer is a little disconcerting.

Eric tightens his grip on my hand but makes no attempt to hide me behind him, though I know he wants to, he thinks of us as equals and as such he expects us to deal with this together.

Niall is smiling fit to bust. The old crone is deadpan. Mississippi's thoughts have suddenly become crystal clear to me again.

He knows everything, as do the other Monarchs who formed the Council, everyone else has been 'glamoured' by Niall. They all think that Eric unveiled De Castro as a traitor who was in league with Newlin to feather his own nest and expand his kingdom, that they watched him meet his true death at the hands of his peers. And that's what Nan Flannigan has already reported to the press. Its genius really. The vampires have shown they are capable of keeping their own house clean and Newlin and his hate spewing followers will be thoroughly discredited.

Everyone gets to their feet and the two vampires incline their heads at me respectfully.

"Russell, Surina, may I introduce you to my Great Granddaughter, Sookie Stackhouse Brigant, Princess of the Sky Fae and her Vampire, the King of Louisiana."

Before I even have a chance to wonder how Eric feels about being described as _mine_ Mississippi's thoughts distract me.

_. . . . . now we are in trouble . . . . ._


	66. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 66 Kitchen Sink Diplomacy**

**SPOV**

I risk a glance at Eric who is smirking at Mississippi in a way which would make a lesser man's skin crawl off his body and slink out the door.

What did I miss?

Apart from breakfast lunch and dinner? My headache is back and the 'we're alive' adrenaline rush that animated me earlier is evaporating out of my pores like sweat. Suddenly it's all I can do to stay upright and ignoring the powerful supernaturals gathered in my kitchen, and my manners, I pull out a chair and fall into it, wishing with all my heart that Niall taught me how to pop coffee instead of apples.

"Please, sit." I offer belatedly, waving my hand vaguely around the Stackhouse table.

Then I scrub my face vigorously with both hands, trying to get some life into it, leaning slightly on Eric as he pulls his chair alongside mine.

Mississippi's mind is going too fast for my sluggish one to keep up with and despite the recent leaps and bounds I've made with my 'disability' I've a feeling I'll only be catching snippets of his thoughts at best.

Trouble.

I'm not equipped to deal with any more trouble, I don't think I could summon up even the merest glimmer of light right now if my life depended on it. Which, knowing my luck, it probably will.

I'm so _tired_ . . . .

"I have questions." Mississippi states.

Niall smiles at him politely. Eric briefly quirks an eyebrow and the Ancient Pythoness studies the label on her bottled blood with a look of mild horror on her face.

After a pause Mississippi decides to treat our silence as assent and take the situational bull by the metaphorical horns.

"The AVL guards?" He asks first, opting to dodge the elephant in the room.

"I am a European Vampire." Eric shrugs. "I did not trust the motivations of the Council and some of my former Monarchs were in agreement with my assessment. They pledged only enough support to attempt a fair hearing."

Mississippi mulls that over for a moment.

"Understandable." He allows.

He's not happy about it though. Despite the innate care of the more sensible members of the Council, which is everyone apart from Washington, they had failed to consider Eric's political connections in their assessment of the risk in supporting Felipe's fabrications. They underestimated him and apparently so did I.

Eric snorts quietly and I'm guessing he's picked up on my thought somehow.

Now Mississippi's wondering if I really can read his mind.

"I can."

"As can I." Niall informs him.

"I also, can read your mind." The old crone pipes up.

Eric, Mississippi and I stare at her like she's grown another head and she cackles.

The way the vampires regard her fascinates me. They respect her age, though none of them seem to know exactly how old she is. But she isn't their leader, in fact she plays a fairly inactive part in their affairs, ratifying contracts and offering advice on thorny political issues mainly. Yet I'm pretty sure if she asked Eric and Russell to jump they'd both brace and want to know how high. And I can understand their shock, after all I've seen that reaction a time or two myself, over the years. Can she? . . . . What was I thinking about? . . . . Shit! . . . . Really? . . . . No way!

For me it's different, because I thought reading minds was just a fairy trait. Is that why I can't read her? Because I can't read Niall either . . . .

"Yes." She says succinctly.

I blink a very surprised way, clearly I've been hanging out with vampires too long, and my poor exhausted mind starts marshalling questions. Mississippi beats me to it however.

"Your Grace?" He enquires, his voice respectful but tight.

"I can read your mind Russell." She says surprisingly gently. "I have always been able to read your mind."

Ah. Awkward silence.

"In Pompeii." She continues. "When you were carrying Bartorelli from the devastation."

He blinks.

"I knew _why_." She finishes, her eyes fixing him to the spot.

Oh. My. God.

I remember Pam saying that he and Indiana were fond of each other but, pfft, they're vampires, I'd no idea any actual _caring_ would be involved.

Mississippi is torn. He'd love to refute her claim, mention that her deductions are obvious. But he can't, because they aren't. He and Indiana have been ruthless in hiding their connection over the millennia. The vampires might know that their current one hundred year marriage is based on mutual regard, some might even remember that they've entered into such contacts before. But none have any idea that each would give, or do, _anything_ to ensure the wellbeing of the other. Vampires don't advertise their weaknesses.

Beside me Eric, who clearly doesn't need to read minds to work out what's going on, is quashing the reaction that's threatening to break out on his face.

And I know why.

Because _Mississippi's_ reaction isn't to lament his secret being out. It's to eliminate anyone who knows it.

Not that he wasn't already leaning toward getting rid of Eric and me. A vampire Monarch bonded to a fairy, and an apparently important one at that, is a risk that he and his fellow Monarch's on the Council are disinclined to tolerate, they've already discussed it and as soon as he gets back he's going to throw his support fully behind their plotting.

The level of suspicion and machination that vampires seem to deal with on a daily basis is too much for me right now and I lean further into Eric, who lays his arm along the back of my chair, the pads of his fingers tracing soothing circles on my exposed shoulder.

In my experience it's going to take another couple of seconds for the implications of his situation to fully dawn on him, but then he's a vampire so maybe it won't take that long . . . .

Ah, there it is.

Mississippi's eyes go wide.

The 'Oh Shit' moment that is one of the more entertaining aspects of mind reading.

Yes, we caught all that and no, there's nothing you can do about it now.

"Well." Niall says brightly, leaning forward over his hands which are clasped on the table. "If you are done asking questions Russell perhaps we should conclude our business of the evening?"

Please, I can barely keep my eyes open and I'm terrified I'm going to fall asleep and miss something important to Eric, to us. And I'm not going to let that happen, despite the disturbingly vivid mental image of me curled up safely in Eric's lap which keeps appearing in my head like a subliminal message.

There's a flair of frustration in our bond and Eric snorts pulling me closer so I can at least rest my head on him.

"Obviously." Niall continues. "My concern here is for the safety of my Great Granddaughter and her Mate in this realm. There are a number of ways this can be accomplished and just like you Russell I prefer to protect my secrets by minimising their exposure. Since I altered the memories of all present two nights ago there are only five Vampire with knowledge of Sookie's heritage."

Two nights? _Two_? No wonder I could eat a scabby horse and drink my own weight in French roast!

Pay attention Stackhouse, the Fairy is talking . . . .

"I could rely on ownership and claim. Sookie is my bloodline, a Princess of the Sky Fae and as such she belongs to me. Louisiana belongs to her, therefore he also is mine. As are his child, all who owe him fealty and some of his employees. An act against any one of them is an act against me. An act of war against the Fae."

Ouch. No wonder Mississippi thought he was in trouble when Niall introduced Eric as _mine_.

"So, you and your fellow Council members would be obliged to protect them with your own resources in order to prevent bloodshed on a scale we have not seen in recent years."

A beat of silence.

"I could, also, if I wished, seek to re-enforce this contractually and with appropriate compensation."

Mississippi blinks.

"If I trusted _you_ Russell, which I am afraid I do not. I am now fairly certain that no matter what we agree you at the very least will be plotting harm against what is mine in the hope that I will not find out you are behind it. Which I will, by the way. And though I have no qualms about granting you, and any of your kind, the true death, it rather defeats the object of the exercise. Which is for Sookie and Eric to have a long and happy life together."

Another blink.

"Speaking of the true death." Niall continues, sitting back and focussing on the empty beer bottle he's twirling in his large hands. "I could, of course, simply send you and your four fellow Council members to meet yours, thus ensuring that my secret is kept and the threat you represent is neutralised."

Mississippi doesn't blink this time, he's sure that covering up the disappearances of five powerful Monarchs is more than Niall is willing to take on.

I'm not so convinced but instead of being appalled I fight back a yawn and snuggle deeper into Eric, inhaling his scent with a dopey smile on my face. Because the solution is obvious, really . . . .

"Or." Niall looks back up at Mississippi, smiling. "I could alter your memories to match those of the others. Eric's heroic unveiling of the King of Nevada as a traitor, his gracious declining of his territories, gifting them to Chicago and New York instead, his eminently sensible decision to complete his bond and pledge with his talented and beautiful human."

"No." Mississippi gasps, pushing his chair back from the table.

"No?" Niall queries, raising an eyebrow.

No! The vampire's mind is practically screaming it. How can he protect himself, Indiana, if he has no idea who his enemies are? He, they, they'd all be sitting ducks. He believes Eric will want revenge for the Councils actions. He thinks it's possible that Eric will use his alliance with me to place himself above his peers. The idea of having information so vital to his survival removed without his consent is terrifying to him. Which is pretty ironic since glamouring 'lesser' beings is something vampires have no problem doing whenever the fancy takes them.

And though it's a rude thing to do I can't help but laugh at the sight of his horrified face.

He's thinking about making a run for it and I tense but before the thought's fully formed two enormous chainmail wearing fairies appear behind him, gripping his shoulders and pushing him down into his chair. I don't even have enough energy left in me to be startled . . . .

His eyes swivel to the Ancient Pythoness, beseeching her to help him.

"Surely it is better than being dead?" She offers.

"I will still end up dead!" He spits out. "How can you allow this?"

"I neither allow nor prevent anything Russell." She says gently. "That is not how this works."

I tense again, expecting Mississippi to react to her words with violence, such was his level of desperation, but instead he's blinking sleepily back at me, his thoughts dwindling away to nothing.

"No time like the present." Niall observes, sounding like he's at the end of a very long tunnel.

I can remember Gran's voice doing that when she was talking to her friends and my child self was falling asleep on the couch.

I try to follow him into Mississippi's mind, to learn from the master, but I'm too tired and what he's doing is too complicated for me to follow, a far cry from the 'hack and slash' job I was so proud of doing on that cop in Fangtasia . . . .

Disappointed I fall back into my own mind. Lulled by the sound of Gran's clock ticking and the occasional chink of chainmail from the fidgeting fairies, my eyelids flutter closed and no matter how hard I fight they're just too heavy for me to force up again. It doesn't help when Eric lifts me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me tightly. He's proud of me for fighting my exhaustion as long as I did, for not showing weakness in front of Russell, but it doesn't matter anymore and he wants me to sleep.

I'm nothing if not stubborn though, drifting in and out of consciousness as the others talk.

". . . . brother . . . ."

". . . . cannot believe it . . . ."

". . . . not controlling . . . ."

". . . . must leave for Chicago soon . . . ."

". . . . back where we started . . . ."

" . . . . take you wherever you want to go . . . ."

". . . . rest . . . ."

". . . . send Ludwig . . . ."

". . . . do not need to be thanked . . . ."

". . . . should be thanking you . . . ."

". . . . son . . . ."

". . . . working on contract . . . ."

". . . . let me down . . . ."

Eric's chest is expanding and contracting in time with my heartbeat, I can hear the air flowing in and out of it, my own, personal, unavoidable, lullaby . . . .

…..

"Sookie, Sookie, Sookie."

"Mmm?"

I don't open my eyes. He wanted me to go to sleep and now he's trying to wake me up? What's wrong with him, is he trying to be funny?

"Are you ready to go home?"

"Am home."

"It could be." He responds doubtfully.

"No . . . . stupid . . . . home's where you are."

"Ah." He's amused by my sleepy confession.

I try, and fail, to open my eyes. There are things I really need to know, questions I have to ask but my brain isn't being any more cooperative than my eyes. So tired still . . . .

"Are we safe?" I mumble, at least getting to the crux of the matter.

"As safe as we will ever be, yes." He replies softly, rubbing his nose along my cheek. "Go back to sleep. Wherever you wake up, it will be with me."

"M-kay."

But only because I know you don't make promises you can't keep.

His rumbling laugh vibrates through my body, following me back down to the inky depths of blissful oblivion . . . .


	67. Chapter 67

**Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chpt 67 Cusp**

**The Fairy**

Aware of his duties the Viking chose to have me return them to the Palace in New Orleans and I was too relieved to have her back in the land of the living to lament the lack of time I had with her. Time is, after all, something she and I should have plenty of.

Travelling to Chicago, with Mississippi, and altering the memories of the other Monarchs was, of course, child's play to me. Returning everything to its state before that night. Only my little ray and those she trusts remain aware of who and what she is.

They are on their own now, although I have agreed with Eric that one of my Royal Guard will at all times be part of her daytime protection. They can also serve as her tutors, helping her hone her magical skills. They are, as he said, as safe now as they will ever be. Though I reserve the right to interfere whenever I decide it necessary. Aga is anxious to assist me in this as, apparently, I am prone to 'overreaction'.

I really should sort myself out and marry that woman, she has waited long enough . . . .

I have supplied the Vampire, who are terrible gossips, the false memory of Eric and Sookie's Pledging Ceremony. An act of barbarity with a blunt knife that they deem to be a deep and meaningful union between two beings. It will be considered a prudent move by the Viking to secure a beautiful and extremely valuable asset and afford her another layer of protection, for a period, since it will make those who covet her even more cautious than her Vampire's reputation already should, elevating her above the status of mere human in their eyes.

Her Vampire understands and I am sure that she will, nevertheless she is my late wife's Great Granddaughter and so I will graciously allow her mate to explain it to her in my stead.

My last action before returning to Faerun was to forward Eric, with appropriate fanfare, the four thousand seven hundred page marriage contract diligently prepared by Desmond. It is not a hint per se, I just believe in being prepared. When he is ready to ask for her hand, her real hand, the formalities must be in place, she is, after all, a Princess of the Sky Fae and I will not be giving her up lightly, soul mates or not.

I believe I will also allow him to explain the dowry, it is probably simpler, and safer, that way.

I am ecstatic for her.

He is a good man. The child of two good men. Worthy.

And his love for her is completely pure.

Though I could probably gauge that from his mind I do not need to. He came to love her, despite everything, for who she was. And he will continue to love her, as she grows more powerful than him, in a way that only a truly great man can.

As the closest thing she has to a father I will ask for nothing more.

Well, not _much_ . . . .

**The Vampire**

As is the way with my world, our world, after the danger, and just as suddenly, comes normality.

I had Niall return us to the Palace. Not exactly the surroundings either of us would have chosen but we have responsibilities there. And people who were waiting for news of us.

Sookie recovered quickly from her near death and as promised we had words on the matter. My Lover is a stubborn woman and not afraid to speak her mind. We reached the same impasse, repeatedly. She would do it again to save my life and, as she points out with a haughty tilt to her head, I am in no position to complain since I would do exactly the same thing for her. I cannot convince her that her life is worth more than mine any more than she can convince _me_ that mine has the greater value.

And we both know it is selfish, because the survivor will be forced to deal with the misery of losing the other.

I have never, in either of my lives, given love between partners any particular thought. Except when I saw it and could leverage it to my advantage. I had always assumed it was a weakness. Now I know I was right. Yet I would not change my feelings for her for the world. She _is_ my world.

If I were human the very concept would give me palpitations.

As Vampire it brings only the acceptance born of long experience. This is my new reality. I will, without question, change my life to accommodate it.

And it does not come without its advantages. The compulsion I have to touch her very rarely goes unfulfilled.

I am not an introspective person so I give little thought to what it means so long as it is not denied for any period of time. Possibly it is a physical manifestation of the trauma of thinking I had lost her, proof positive under my body, fingertips, lips and tongue, that she is very much alive and well. Perhaps it is a product of the connection of our souls, for the _need_ to feel skin against skin is entirely mutual and though I much prefer to _fully_ satisfy that need when the two of us are alone, and without clothes, even so little as my finger on the back of her hand while we are in the presence of others, can suffice.

And when we are alone . . . . she _consumes_ me.

So much so that I have had to take extra precautions with our security. As Pam has so kindly pointed out, a nuclear war could proceed unnoticed while my mate and I have a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on our door.

The scent and feel of her skin, how it changes as it moves against mine. The exquisite flavour of it, subtly different on every part of her and at every stage of her arousal. The sounds she makes, orchestral in their complexity, ethereal in their beauty. Her body and her mind are byzantine equations I _love_ will take me an eternity of intense concentration to decipher.

Her soul is another thing entirely. That I possess, own and _know_. I have been able to feel it, I think, since the night she gave herself to me. The beauty of these gifts leaves me breathless in the same way that the rest of her does. She is an amazing woman.

There are not words for how I feel when she offers her neck, and her blood, to sustain me. Nothing that could _ever_ describe the circle of perfection created when my body and my fangs are inside her as she writhes against me in ecstasy . . . .

I have a four thousand seven hundred page marriage contract in my desk from Niall and Cataliades. It was delivered, abruptly, by a cadre of The Fae Royal Guard and mostly details the various unpleasant fates that await me should Sookie fail to thrive as my partner. It also includes a dowry, fit for a Princess of the Sky Fae, that made _my_ eyes water and will undoubtedly send my Lover into orbit when she finds out about it.

This, probably, excuses my reticence. I have never proposed before, and never intend to again, to be incinerated so shortly after taking the plunge would be most, _unfortunate_ . . . .

**The Ex Waitress**

It took a while to sink in, that we were, as Eric put it, as safe as we would ever be. I didn't go digging for his definition of what that meant, I've a good enough idea.

Am I sanguine about it? Pretty much, yes.

It took a while though. After the shock of nearly losing Eric, and myself, it all came crashing down on me. All this stuff I hadn't realised I'd just accepted and moved on from without really thinking about. And if it weren't for him I think I would have gone just a little bit crazier than the people in my home town already thought I was.

I fell in love with him for a reason. Underneath that frosty vampiric exterior is a good and honourable man, he just has a much narrower focus for it than most people, human or otherwise, do. But I've really seen and felt what it's like to be within that focus in the last few weeks. His patience with my questions, rants and worries has been limitless, even when he's got no better answers than I have. He's been everything I could have asked for and more, and I feel so bad that I'm mad at him, after all it's not his fault, that I've buried it deep down where I can have a good stab at trying to ignore it.

We received a 'Pledging Gift' of some magnificence from Mississippi and Indiana, who apparently had a whale of a time at the ceremony that never was. Niall, whose skills far outstrip mine, decided to implant the memory of Eric and I pledging in the minds of all the Vampire in Chicago that night. Now I'm not stupid, I know our Vampire 'marriage' has raised my status in their eyes and means it's far less likely someone will try to take me away from Eric. And yes, I'm mad at Niall the most, I am not a building that can be 're-zoned' for convenience. But . . . .

I never thought I'd get married, what with being 'crazy' and all. And it never once entered my head, no matter how much he loves me, that Eric and I would get married. For one thing it's not legal in most of the US and for two, well, he's a powerful Vampire, not the boy next door. Seriously, I hadn't even _thought_ about it. And I know Vampire marriage isn't exactly the real deal, there are no papers to file at the Courthouse for a start, but it's an important tradition to them, to _him_.

The only time it came up in conversation he shrugged and said it was a shrewd tactical move on Niall's part.

My blood nearly boiled, I'm surprised he couldn't feel the rise in temperature since we were curled round each other, naked as the day we were born, at the time. Thalia would have been proud of the way I clamped down on the rest of my reaction before it could spread.

This is a side of me I never knew I had. Practical me I know. Deductive me. Stubborn me. Loyal me. The me that wants the man I love to _actually_ make a commitment to me, and is pissed that he hasn't, is new. And a little bit of an unwelcome shock.

After all, it's completely meaningless in the grand scheme of things. I know he loves me. Know it on the most instinctive of levels and am constantly being shown it. Fouffy dresses and official documents add absolutely nothing.

Nothing . . . .

And it is, I _think_, even sillier when viewed in terms of our being soul mates.

Not that I have more than the haziest idea what that actually means, or how it happened. It was how he was able to call me back to my body before it died too. And, from what he's recounted of Niall's words, it explains why my Great Grandfather kept referring to him as my Stalker.

But it's not something I can get my head round. Eric says it means our souls will always be linked and that when we both die, eventually, they'll be born again and reunited. New bodies, new histories, the same love. Well, I'm assuming the love part, it's not really a word that sits easily in Eric's vocabulary, even if he did blurt it out once. We have a kind of 'gentleman's agreement' on the 'L' word, nobody can say it out loud, but it's okay to show it. What he actually said was '. . . . and everything we are to each other now we will be again . . . .'

I can't make up my mind whether being soul mates is comforting or not. There are some obvious flaws. Unless we die at the same time then someone is in for a rough ride. Eric hasn't spoken much about when he thought I was dead but I've picked up enough from our bond to know it wasn't pretty, enough to make my chest constrict and my breathing to hitch in sympathy. True to his threat we've had words on what happened. I don't remember much about it in fairness. I recall realising that being Fae was good for something when I managed to keep him alive after he was staked, the actual moment when I knew I would die doing it is particularly clear. It was like falling down a slide of silk, it was cool as it billowed around me, and I wasn't remotely bothered, it was a good exchange, my life for his.

He doesn't see it the same way and I'm not sure I do anymore either. It's complicated, even without the unsubstantiated claim that we'll be together again one day. And though we know how much a death would hurt the other we're both just as prepared to sacrifice ourselves to prevent it. This conversation always ends with his face scrunched up and him muttering to himself in Old Norse. I don't understand the language but I fancy I could pick their word for 'stubborn' out of a line up if I had to. He uses it a _lot_. We've managed, with great difficulty, to talk about what we'd do if anything happened. And the simple answer is, suffer. Neither of us, assuming the soul mate stuff is even real, are the type to just lie down and die so our alternate plan is to work hard, and work together, to avoid either of us ever having to face it.

Another shock is how dedicated I'm feeling to be to that course of action. Theory and practise are two different things I know, but nevertheless without being tested, it's disconcerting how far I think I might be prepared to go . . . .

Is that plain old love? Soul mates? A vicious side I never knew I had, hitting people over the head with shovels notwithstanding? Hanging out with Vampire too long? My inner bloodthirsty Fae manifesting?

I'd love to ask Niall but he's been conspicuous by his absence. He probably knows I've got a flash of bright light with his scheming name on it over the whole 'Pledging' thing.

Seriously, I've got questions. The Ancient Pythoness is his sister, his _sister_! So, for example, did Niall inspire Machiavelli, or did he just meet him one day and think 'Wow, politics is the way to go, no more epic sword battles for me'? What sort of person do you have to be to be to turn your own flesh and blood into the one thing you despise above all others and then connive to get them to the top of their new food chain? How could you even visualise that, given the time it probably took to come to fruition? Did he do it on 'spec' and hope for the best? Did he do it because she pissed him off and it's all just worked out better than he expected in the long run?

I could ask these, and the more intimate questions I have, of the Fae Guards who rotate through my daytime security, but it doesn't seem right, lovely though they are. I don't know what the etiquette is amongst Fairy for questioning 'the big cheese' and they certainly don't need, and probably wouldn't want, to know about my sex life. I can see it now;

'So, hey, Girvan. Are all Fae nymphomaniacs or is it just me?

Do you have a soul mate, do you need to touch them all the time?

Is even talking to them so much better when you're naked?'

No, not happening, Eric may have left his 'shame' behind a thousand years ago but my Christian upbringing is a heck of a lot more recent. He finds my desperation for answers, and Southern reticence about asking for them, extremely entertaining.

The Guards have been very good at helping me with my magic though. I can now turn the paperweight into coffee. But there's a problem if I drink it, Eric's paperweight is not what it once was and he's taken to referring to it as his 'Post It Note weight', not that many of the people he says that to get the joke. Stupid physics . . . .

So, here I am. Crazy Sookie Stackhouse, ex waitress, living in the dead Queen Sophie-Anne's ludicrous palace. Sleeping most of the day away so I can emerge at night. Riddled with questions, doubts and fears born of ignorance. Apparently beset by enemies on all sides. I'm counting my brother Jason as one for the moment, since his voicemails have been less than familial in their tone . . . .

Happier and more content than I have ever been. Strangely excited about what the future might hold.

With Eric . . . .

**The End**

**A/N First and foremost, heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed and otherwise encouraged this story. It wouldn't have been any fun without you. **

**Second. It was always my intention that this story would have a 'squeakquel'. New Fairy / Old Vampire / Niall. There's a tale to tell there if you want it . . . .**

**Morty**


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